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AUTHOR: 


HOBBES,  THOMAS 


TITLE: 


PHILOSOPHY  OF 
HOBBES  IN  EXTRACTS 


PLACE: 


MINNEAPOLIS 


DA  TE : 


1903 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 
PRESERVATION  DEPARTMENT 


Master  Negative  # 


BIBLIOGRAPHIC  MICROFORM  TARGET 


Original  Material  as  Filmed  -  Existing  Bibliographic  Record 


Seleoti 


Hobbes,  Thomas,  1588-1679. 


The  philosophy  of  Hobbes  in  extracts  and  notes  col-^ 
lated  from  his  writings ;  selected  and  arranged  bv  Fred- 
erick  J.  E.  Woodbridge  ...    Minneapolis,  The  H.  W.  Wil- 
son  company,  1903. 

XXX vi  p..  1  1.,  391  p.    front,  (port.)  pi.    21"". 

"List  of  the  writings  of  Thomas  Hobbes":  p.  ixxxvi-xxxvL 


Restrictions  on  Use: 


i.JYoodbridge,  Frederick  James  Eugene,  1867-.n/f;ed. 

(Continued  on  next  oar^) 

Library  of  Congress         (      J      B1205    1903 
Copyright  .J^.^/^'^;^'*^' 


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Columbia  5ftni»f  wiftp 

THE  LIBRARIES       < 


GIVEN  BY 


Vilendeli  T.  Bush 


THE 


PHILOSOPHY   OF   HOBBES 


IN 


EXTRACTS  AND   NOTES 
COLLATED  FROM  HIS  WRITINGS 


SELECTED  AND  ARRANGED 


BY 


FREDERICK  J.  E.  WOODBRIDGE 

PROFESSOR  OF   PHILOSOPHY   IN  COLUMBIA   UNIVERSITY 


MINNEAPOLIS 
THE  H.  W.  WILSON  COMPANY 


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GIFT  OF 
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Copyright,  1903 

by 

The  H.  W.  Wilson  Company 


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PREFACE 


J^  The  text  of  the  following  selections  from  the  writ- 
^  ings  of  Thomas  Hobbes  is  that  of  the  Molesworth  edi- 
tion, London,  1841.  The  portrait  of  Hobbes  is  repro- 
duced from  the  same  edition,  and  the  title-page  to  the 
Leviathan  is  reproduced  from  a  copy  of  the  first  edition 
in  the  possession  of  the  Library  of  the  University  of 
Minnesota.  Aubrey's  Life  of  Hobbes  has  been  reprint- 
ed without  change,  except  for  the  omission  of  several 
notes,  from  the  London  edition,  1813,  of  his  Lives  of 
Eminent  Men. 

The  book  has  originated  in  my  conviction  of  the 
great  historical  importance  of  Hobbes  as  a  thinker  on 
philosophical  and  psychological  problems,  and  in  my 
appreciation  of  the  value  of  his  work  in  stimulating  re- 
flection. The  plan  of  the  book  has  been  determined 
by  my  experience  in  reading  the  works  of  philosoph- 
ers with  classes  in  the  history  of  philosophy.  I  have 
found  critical  introductions  to  be  more  of  an  evil  than 
a  good,  because  they  are  naturally  read  first,  and  thus 
make  an  immediate  and  uncolored  impression  by  the 
author  impossible.  The  same  is  true  of  notes  added 
as  a  commentary  to  the  text.  I  have  therefore  omitted 
both  the  introduction  and  notes  customary  in  books  of 
this  kind.  In  their  place,  I  have  collated  passages  from 
the  writings  of  Hobbes,  which  serve  to  supplement  and 
clarify  the  text.  By  this  means  the  book  has  been 
made  to  present  practically  all  that  Hobbes  has  con- 
tributed to  the  main  questions  of  philosophy  and 
psychology.     I  have  omitted  in  the  selections  the  de- 


> 


IV 


PREFACE 


tails  of  his  mathematical,  physical,  and  political  theo- 
ries. The  list  of  his  writings,  which  follows  Aubrey's 
account  of  his  life,  shows  the  extent  and  variety  of  his 
literary  activity.  For  critical  discussions  of  Hobbes. 
the  reader  is  referred  to  G.  C.  Robertson's  Hobbes  and 
his  article  on  Hobfefis,  in  the  Encyclopaedia  BritaTtmca, 
and  toTKe  "bibliography  in  E.  H.  Sneath's  Ethics  of 

Hobbes. 

I  wish  to  express  here  my  thanks  to  Professor  Nor- 
man Wilde  of  the  University  of  Minnesota  for  the  many 
valuable  suggestions  he  made  while  the  book  was  in 
preparation,  and  to  Miss  Ethel  C.  Brill  for  the  help  she 
has  given  me  in  reading  the  proof  and  in  indexing  the 
■elections  from  the  Elemetits  of  Philosophy. 

Frederick  J.  E.  Woodbridge. 

Columbia  University.  January.  1903. 


It 


/ 


-J 


CONTENTS 

Preface HI 

Life  of  Thomas  Hobbes  by  John  Aubrey  ...  vii 
List  of  the  Writings  of  Thomas  Hobbes  ....  xxxv 
Selections  from  the  Elements  of  Philosophy  concerning 

-^         Body 1-76 

Chapter  L    Of  Philosophy I 

U.    Of  Names 13 

HL    Of  Propositions 26 

IV.    Of  Syllogism 36 

V.    Of  Erring,  Falsity,  and  Captions       ...  39 

VL    Ot  Method 46 

Selections  from  Leviathan^ 77-379 

The  Epistle  Dedicatory 79 

The  Introduction 81 

Chapter  I.    Of  Sense 84 

I.    Supplement  from  Elements  of  Philosophy, 

Chapter  XXV        .....  86 

II.    Supplement  from   Human   Nature,  Chap- 
ter II,                   95 

II.    Of  Imagination loi 

III.  Of  the  Consequence  or  Train  of  Imaginations  113 

IV.  Of  Speech 120 

V.    Of  Reason  and  Science  13* 

VI.    Of  the  Interior  Beginnings  of  Voluntary  Mo- 
tions, commonly  called  the  Passions;  and 

the  Speeches  by  which  they  are  expressed  143 

Supplement  from  Liberty  and  Necessity           .  165 

VII.    Of  thellnds,  or  Resolutions  of  Discourse  172 
VIII.    Of  the  Virtues  commonly  called  Intellectual; 

and  their  contrary  Defects         .        .        .178 

IX.    Of  the  Several  Subjects  of  Knowledge          .  193 
X.    Of  Power,  Worth,  Dignity,  Honour,  and  Worth- 
iness            196 

XI.    Of  the  DiflFerence  of  Manners       ...  208 

XII.    Of  Religion 217 

XIII.    Of  the  Natural  Condition  of  Mankind  as  con- 
cerning their  Felicity  and  Misery       .         .  232 


^ 


vl 


COXTKNTS 


Parallel  Chapter  frnm  Philosophical  Rudim^^s. 

Qiapter  1 :•  239 

XIV.    Of  the  First  and  Second  Natural  Laws,  and  of 

Contract             251 

Parallel  r\^^]^x  U^^"^  Phnngnphiral  RiiHii^^n^s. 

Chapter  II 265 

XV.    Of  other  Laws  of  Nature  .278 

PRiallfl^^'^r^^^  ^'•""^  Philncophiral  R  ii^^JnK"^?! 

Chapter  III 294 

XVI.    Of  Persons,  Authors,  and  Things  Personated  313 
XVII.     Of  the  Causes,  Generation,  and  Definition  of  a 

Commonwealth      .....  319 

XVIII.    Of  the  Rights  of  Sovereigns  by  Institution          .  325 

XXXI.    Of  the  Kindom  of  God  by  Nature           .         .  342 
XLIII.    Of  what  is  Necessary  for  a   Man's   Reception 

into  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven      .         .         .  356 

A  Review  and  Conclusion 368 

Index 380 


1 


LIFE  OF  MR.  THOMAS  HOBBES 
OF  MALMSBURIE. 


BY 


JOHN  AUBREY. 


LECTORI. 

'Tis  religion  to  performe  the  will  of  the  dead.       I 
therefore  dischardge  my  promise,  performing  the  last  of- 
fice to  my  hon'rd  friend  Mr.  T.  H.     Since  nobody  knew 
so  many  particulars  of  his  life  as  myselfe,  he  desired 
that  if  I  survived  him,  it  should  be  handed  to  posterity  by 
my  hands,  w'ch  I  declare  and  avow  to  doe  ingenuously 
and  impartially.     One  sayes  that  when  a  learned  man 
dyes,  a  great  deal  of  learning  dyes  with  him.     He  was 
numen  ingenii,  never  dry.       Amongst  innumerable  ob- 
servations which  deserved  to  be  sett  downe,  these  few 
that  have  not  escaped  my  memory,  I  humbly  offer  to  the 
present  age  and  posterity,  tanquam  tabulam  naufragii; 
as  plankes  and  lighter  things  swimme,  and  are  preserved, 
whereas  the  more  weighty  sinke  and  are  lost.     And  as 
with  the  light  after  sun-sett,  at  which  time  it  is  clear,  by 
and  by  comes  the  crepuscule,  then  totall  darkness;  in 
like  manner  is  it  with  matters  of  antiquitie.     Men  thinke, 
because    everybody    remembers    a    memorable    accident 
shortly  after  it  is  done,  'twill  never  be  forgotten,  w'ch  for 
want  of  entering,  at  last  is  drowned  in  oblivion.     This 
reflection  has  been  a  hint,  that  by  my  meanes  many  an- 
tiquities have  been  rescued  from  oblivion  and  preserved, 
I  myselfe  now  inclining  to  be  ancient. 


^ 


▼HI 


LECTORI 


For  that  I  am  so  minute,  I  declare  I  never  intended  it, 
but  setting  downe  in  my  rude  draught  every  thing,  with 
'purpose,  upon  review,  to  retrench  what  was  superfluous 
and  triviall,  I  shewed  it  to  some  friends  of  mine  (who 
also  were  of  Mr.  Hobbes's  acquaintance)  whose  judg- 
ments I  much  value;  who  gave  their  opinion,  and  *twas 
clearly  their  judgement,  to  let  all  stand;  for  though  to 
some  at  present  it  might  appeare  too  triviall ;  yet  here- 
after 'twould  not  be  slighted,  but  passe  for  antiquity. 
And  besides  I  have  precedents  of  reverend  writers  to 
plead,  who  have  in  some  lives  veiled  things  as  triviall, 
nay,  the  sayings  and  actions  of  good  woemen.  I  am  also 
to  beg  pardon  of  the  Reader,  for  a  long  digression,  viz. 
Malmesbury  and  Gorambery,  but  this  also  was  advised, 
as  the  only  way  to  preserve  them.  I  hope  its  novelty  and 
pleasantness  will  make  compensation  for  its  length. 

Yours, 
'  *  J.  A. 


It  was  usual  with  the  writers  of  the  lives  of  the  an- 
cient philosophers,  in  the  first  place,  to  speake  of  their 
lineage ;  and  they  tell  us  that  in  processe  of  time  severall 
illustrious  families  accounted  it  their  glory  to  be  derived 
from  such  or  such  a  Sapiens.  Why  now  should  that 
method  be  omitted  in  this  Historiola  of  our  Malmesbury 
Philosopher,  who  though  but  of  plebeian  extraction,  his 
renowne  has  and  will  give  brightnesse  to  his  name  and 
familie,  which  hereafter  may  arise  and  flourish  in  riches, 
and  may  justly  take  it  an  honour  to  be  of  kin  to  this 
worthy  person,  so  famous  for  his  learning,  both  at  home 
and  abroad. 

Thomas  Hobbes,  whose  life  I  write,  was  second  son 
of  Mr.  Thomas  Hobbes,  vicar  of  Charlton  and  Westport, 
juxta  Malmesbury. — Thomas,  the  father,  was  one  of  the 


LIFE   OF   HOBBES 


IX 


ignorant  Sr.  Johns  of  Q.  Elizabeth's  time,  could  only  read 
the  prayers  of  the  church,  and  the  homilies ;  and  valued 
not  learning,  as  not  knowing  the  sweetness  of  it.  He 
had  an  elder  brother  whose  name  was  Francis,  a  wealthy 
man,  and  alderman  of  the  borough;  by  profession  a 
glover,  which  is  a  great  trade  here,  and  in  times  past 
much  greater.  Having  no  child,  he  contributed  much  to, 
or  rather  altogether  maintained,  his  nephew  Thomas,  at 
Magdalen-hall,  in  Oxon ;  and  when  he  dyed  gave  him 
agellnm,  a  pasture,  called  Gasten-ground,  lying  neer  to 
the  horse- faire,  worth  i6  or  i8  poundes  per  annum;  the 
rest  of  his  landes  he  gave  to  his  nephew  Edmund. 

Thomas,  the  vicar  of  Westport,  maried  .  .  . 
Middleton,  of  Brackenborough,  (of  a  yeomanly  family) 
by  whom  he  had  two  sonnes,  and  one  daughter.  Ed- 
mund, his  eldest,  was  bred  up  to  his  uncle's  profession  of 
a  glover.  Edmund  was  about  two  yeares  elder  than  his 
brother  Thomas  (philosopher),  whose  life  I  now  write, 
and  something  resembled  him  in  face,  but  fell  much  short 
of  him  in  his  intellect,  though  he  was  a  good  plain.under- 
standing  countryman.  He  had  been  bred  at  schoole  with 
his  brother ;  could  have  made  theme,  and  verse,  and  un- 
derstood a  little  Greek  to  his  dyeing  day.  He  dyed 
about  13  yeares  since,  aetat.  circiter  80. 

This  Edmund  had  only  one  son  named  Francis,  and 
two  daughters  maried  to  countrymen  (renters)  in  the 
neighbourhood.  Francis  pretty  well  resembled  his  uncle 
Thomas,  especially  about  the  eie ;  and  probably  had  he 
had  a  good  education  might  have  been  ingeniose ;  but  he 
drowned  his  witt  in  ale.  He  was  left  by  his  father  and 
uncle  Thomas,  Solib.  or  better  per  annum,  but  he  was  an 
ill  husband.     He  dyed  about  two  yeares  after  his  father, 

and  left  five  children. 

Westport  is  the  parish  without  .the  west-gate,  w  ch  is 


X  UFE   OF   HOBBES 

now  demolished;  which  gate  stood  on  the  neck  of  land 
that  joines  Malmesbury  to  Westport.  Here  was,  before 
the  late  warres,  a  very  pretty  church,  consisting  of  a  nave 
and  aisles,  which  took  up  the  whole  area,  dedicated  to  St. 
Mary;  and  a  fair  spire-steeple,  with  five  tuneable  bells, 
which,  when  the  towne  was  taken  (about  1644)  by  Sir 
W.  Waller,  were  melted  (converted  into  ordinance),  and 
the  church  pulled  downe  to  the  ground,  that  the  enemie 
might  not  shelter  themselves  against  the  garrison.  The 
steeple  was  higher  than  that  now  standing  in  the  borough, 
which  much  adorned  the  prospect.  The  windowes  were 
well  painted,  and  in  them  were  inscriptions  that  declared 
much  antiquitie ;  now  is  here  rebuilt  a  church  like  a  stable. 

Thomas  Hobbes,  Malmesburiensis  Philosophus,  was 
borne  at  his  father's  house  in  Westport,  being  that  ex- 
treme house  that  pointes  into,  or  faces  the  horse-fayre; 
the  farthest  house  on  the  left  hand  as  you  goe  to  Tedbury, 
leaving  the  church  on  the  right.  To  prevent  mistakes, 
and  that  hereafter  may  rise  no  doubt  what  house  was 
famous  for  this  famous  man's  birth;  I  doe  here  testifie 
that  in  April,  1659,  his  brother  Edmund  went  with  me 
into  this  house,  and  into  the  chamber  where  he  was  borne. 
Now  things  begin  to  be  antiquated,  and  I  have  heard 
some  guesse  it  might  be  at  the  house  where  his  brother 
Edmund  Hved  and  dyed;  but  this  is  so,  as  I  here  deliver 
it.  This  house  was  given  by  Thomas,  the  vicar,  to 
his  daughter  .  .  .  whose  daughter  or  grand-daughter 
possessed  it,  when  I  was  there.  It  is  a  firme  house, 
stone-built,  and  tiled,  of  one  roome,  with  a  buttery  (or  the 
like)  below,  and  two  chambers  above.  It  was  the  inner- 
most where  he  first  drew  breath. 

The  day  of  his  birth  was  April  the  fifth,  A'o.  D'ni. 
1588,  on  a  Fry  day  morning,  w'ch  that  year  was  Good 
Fryday.     His  mother  fell  in  labour  with  him  upon  the 


LIFE   OF   HOBBES 


XI 


K' 


fright  of  the  invasion  of  the  Spaniards ;  he  told  me  him- 
self between  the  hours  of  four  and  six ;  but  by  rectifica- 
tion his  nativity  is  found  to  be  at  .  .  .  His  horoscope 
is  8  having  in  it  a  satellitium  of  5  of  the  7  planets. 
It  is  a  maxime  in  astrology  that  a  native  that  hath  a 
satellitium  in  his  ascendent  proves  more  eminent  in  his 
life  than  ordinary. 

At  four  yeares  old  he  went  to  schoole  in  Westport 
church,  till  eight;  at  that  time  he  could  read  well,  and 
number  four  figures.     Afterwards  he  went  to  schoole  to 
Malmesbury,  to  Mr.  Evans,  the  minister  of  the  towne, 
and  afterwards  to  Mr.  Robert  Latimer,  a  young  man  of 
about  nineteen  or  twenty,  newly  come  from  the  Univer- 
sity, who  then  kept  a  private  schoole  in  Westport,  where 
the  broad  place  is,  next  door  north  from  the  smyth's  shop, 
opposite  to  the  Three  Cuppes,  (as  I  take  it.)     He  was  a 
batchelor  and  delighted  in  his  scholar,  T.  H.'s  company, 
and  used  to  instruct  him,  and  two  or    three    ingeniose 
youths  more,  in  the  evening  till  nine  o'clock.     Here  T.  H. 
so  well  profited  in  his  learning,  that  at  fourteen  years  of 
age,  he  went  away  a  good  school-scholar  to  Magdalen- 
hall',  in  Oxford.     It  is  not  to  be  forgotten,  that  before 
he  went  to  the  University,  he  had  turned  Euripidis  Medea 
out  of  Greeke  into  Latin  lambiques,  which  he  presented 
to  his  master.     Mr.  H.  told  me  that  he  would  fain  have 
had  them,  to  have  seen  how  he  did  grow  in     .     .     .      ; 
twentv  odde  yeares  agoe  I  searcht  all  Mr.  Latimer's  pa- 
pers, but  could  not  find  them ;  the  good  houswives  had 
sacrificed  them,  the  oven  (pies)  had  devoured  them.     I 
have  heard  that  when  he  was  a  boy  he  was  playsome 
enough,  but  withall  he  had  then  a  contemplative  melan- 
cholinesse ;  he  would  gett  him  into  a  corner,  and  learn 
his  lesson  by  heart  presently.     His  haire  was  black,  and 
the  boys,  his  schoolfellows,  were  wont  to  call  him  Crowe. 


\ 


XI 1 


LIFE   OF   HOBBES 


UFE  OF  HOBBES 


xni 


This  Mr.  Latimer  was  a  good  Grecian,  and  the  first  that 
came  into  our  parts  since  the  Reformation.  He  was  af- 
terwards minister  of  Malmesbury,  and  from  thence  pre- 
ferred to  a  better  Hving  of  lool.  per  ann.  or  more,  at 
Leigh-de-la-mere  within  this  hundred. 

At  Oxford  he  used,  in  the  summer  time  especially,  to 
rise  very  early  in  the  morning,  and  would  tye  the  leaden- 
counters  (w'ch  they  used  in  those  dayes  at  Christmas  at 
post  and  payre)  with  strings,  which  he  did  draw  through 
birdlime,  and  bayte  them  with  parings  of  cheese,  and  the 
jack-da wes  would  spye  them  a  vast  distance  up  in  the 
aire,  as  far  as  Osney-abbey,  and  strike  at  the  bayte, 
and  so  be  ...  in  the  string,  w'ch  the  wayte  of  the 
counter  would  make  cling  about  their  wings.  He  did 
not  much  care  for  logick,  yet  he  learned  it,  and  thought 
himself  a  good  disputant.  He  tooke  great  delight  there 
to  go  to  the  book-binders'  and  stationers*  shops,  and  lye 
gaping  on  mappes,  of  which  he  takes  notice  in  his  life 
written  by  himself,  in  verse: 

Ergo  ad  amoena  magis  me  verto,  librosque  revolvo, 
Quos  prius  edoctus,  non  bene  doctus  eram. 

Pascebamque  animum  chartis  imitantibus  orbem, 
Telluris  faciem,  et  sidera  picta  videns, 

Gaudebam  soli  comes  ire,  et  cernere  cunctis 

Terricolis  justos  qua  facit  arte  dies. 
After  he  had  taken  his  Batchelor  of  Arts'  degree,  the 
then  Principall  of  Magdalen-hall  recommended  him  to 
his  young  lord  when  he  left  Oxon,  who  did  believe  that 
he  should  profitt  more  in  his  learning,  if  he  had  a  scholar 
of  his  owne  age  to  wayte  on  him,  than  if  he  had  the  in- 
formation of  a  grave  doctor ;  he  was  his  lordship's  page, 
and  rode  a  hunting  and  hawking  with  him,  and  kept  his 
privy-purse.  By  this  way  of  life  he  had  almost  forgott 
his  Latin.     He  then  bought  him  bookes  of  an  Amsterdam 


print,  that  he  might  carry  in  his  pocket  (particularly 
Caesar's  Commentaries)  w'ch  he  did  read  in  the  lobbey, 
or  ante-chamber,  whilst  his  lord  was  making  his  visits. 

The  Lord  Chancellor  Bacon  loved  to  converse  with 
him.  He  assisted  his  Lordship  in  translating  severall  of 
his  essayes  into  Latin,  one  I  well  remember  is  that.  Of  the 
Greatness  of  Cities :  the  rest  I  have  forgott.  His  Lordship 
was  a  very  contemplative  person,  and  was  wont  to  con- 
template in  his  delicious  walkes  at  Gorambery,  and  dic- 
tate to  Mr.  Bushell,  or  some  other  of  his  gentlemen,  that 
attended  him  with  ink  and  paper  ready  to  sett  downe 
presently  his  thoughts.  His  Lordship  would  often  say 
that  he  better  liked  Mr.  Hobbes's  taking  his  thoughts, 
than  any  of  the  others,  because  he  understood  what  he 
wrote  which  the  others  not  understanding,  my  Lord 
would  many  times  have  a  hard  task  to  make  sense  of  what 

they  writt. 

It  is  to  be  remembered  that  about  these  times,  Mr. 
T.  H.  was  much  addicted  to  musique,  and  practised  on 

the  bass-viol. 

This  summer  [1634]  Mr.  T.  H.  came  into  his  native 
country  to  visitt  his  friends,  and  amongst  others  he  canie 
to  see  his  old  schoolmaster,  Mr.  Rob.  Latimer,  at  Leigh- 
de-la-mere,  when  I  was  then  a  little  youth  at  school,  m 
the  church,  newly  entered  into  my  grammar  by  him. 
Here  was  the  first  place  and  time  that  ever  I  had  the 
honour  to  see  this  worthy,  learned  man,  who  was  then 
pleased  to  take  notice  of  me,  and  the  next  day  came  and 
visited  my  relations.  He  was  a  proper  man,  briske  and 
in  very  good  equipage ;  his  haire  was  then  quite  black. 
He  stayed  at  Malmesbury,  and  in  the  neighbourhood,  a 
weeke  or  better ;  'twas  the  last  time  that  ever  he  was  in 

Wiltshire.  ,      ,     ,     . 

He  was  forty  yeares  old  before  he  looked  on  geom- 


' 


i' 


XIV 


LIFE   OF   HOBBES 


LIFE   OF   HOBBES 


XV 


etry,  w'ch  happened  accidentally;  being  in  a  gentleman's 
library  in     .     .     .     Euclid's  Elements  lay  open,  and  it 
was  the  47  Prop.  Lib.  I.     So  he  reads  the  proposition, 
*'By  G — ,"  says  he,  "this  is  impossible !"     So  he  reads  the 
demonstration  of  it,  w'ch  referred  him  back  to  another, 
w'ch  he  also  read,  et  sic  deinceps,  that  at  last  he  was 
demonstratively  convinced  of  that  truth.      This   made 
him  in  love  with  geometry.       I  have  heard  Sr.  Jonas 
Moore  (and  others)  say  that  'twas  a  great  pity  he  had 
not  begun  the  study  of  the  mathem.  sooner;  for  such  a 
working  head  and  curious  witt  would  have  made  gredt 
advancement  in  it.     Had  he  done  so,  he  would  not  have 
layn  so  open  to  his  learned  mathematicall  antagonists. 
But  one  may  say  of  him,  as  one  sayes  of  Jos.  Scaliger, 
that  where  he  erres,  he  erres  so  ingeniosely,  that  one  had 
rather  erre  with  him,  than  hitt  the  marke  with  Clavius. 
I  have  heard  Mr.  Hobbes  say,  that  he  was  wont  to  draw 
lines  on  his  thigh,  and  on  the  sheetes  abed,  as  also  mul- 
tiply and  divide.     He  would  often  complain,  that  algebra 
(though  of  great  use)  was  too  much  admired,  and  so  fol- 
lowed after  that  it  made  men  not  contemplate  and  con- 
sider so  much  the  nature  and  power  of  lines,  w'ch  was  a 
great  hinderance  to  the  growth  of  geometrie;  for  that 
though  algebra  did  rarely  well  and  quickly,  and  easily  in 
right  lines,  yet  'twould  not  bite  in  solid  geometrie. 

After  he  began  to  reflect  on  the  interest  of  the  King 
of  England,  as  touching  his  affaires  between  him  and  the 
Parliament,  for  ten  yeares  together  his  thoughts  were 
much,  or  almost  altogether  unhinged  from  the  mathe- 
matiques;  but  chiefly  intent  on  his  "De  Give",  and  after 
that  on  his  "Leviathan",  w'ch  was  a  great  putt-back  to 
his  mathematicall  improvement:  quod  N.  B.  for  in  ten 
yeares'  (or  better)  discontinuance  of  that  study  (espe- 
cially) one's  malhcmatiques  will  become  very  rustv. 


"When  the  Parliament  sate  that  began  in  April,  1640, 
and  was  dissolved  in  May  following,  and  in  which  many 
pointes  of  the  regall  power,  which  were  necessary  for  the 
peace  of  the  kingdome  and  safety  of  his  Majestie's  per- 
son, were  disputed  and  denied,  Mr.  Hobbes  wrote  a  little 
treatise  in  English,  wherein  he  did  sett  forth  and  demon- 
|trat£^hat  the  sayd  power  and  rights  were  mseparaply 
annexed  trT^fC "^v'rrpi>nty.  which  soye'r^gtlTy  llwv  iM 
len  deny  to  be  m  the  Kmg ;  but  it  seems  understood 


n 


ImS^rstand,  th* 
this  treatise,  though  not  printed,  many  gentlemen  had 
copies,  which  occasioned  much  talk  of  the  author;  and 
had  not  his  Majestic  dissolved  the  Parliament,  it  had 
brought  him  in  danger  of  his  life."* 

Mem.  he  told  me  that  Bp.  Manwaring  (of  St. 
David's)  preached  his  doctrine;  for  which,  among  others, 
he  was  sent  prisoner  to  the  Tower.  Then  thought  Mr. 
Hobbes,  it  is  time  now  for  me  to  shift  for  myselfe,  and 
so  went  into  France,  and  resided  at  Paris.  As  I  re- 
member, there  were  others  likewise  did  preach  his  doc- 
trine. This  little  MS.  treatise  became  his  book  "De 
Give",  and  at  last  grew  to  be  so  formidable,  and  .  .  . 
Leviathan  ;  the  manner  of  writing  of  which  booke  was 
thus.  He  walked  much  and  contemplated,  and  he  had  in 
the  head  of  his  cane  a  pen  and  ink-home,  carried  always 
a  note-booke  in  his  pocket,  and  as  soon  as  a  thought 
darted,  he  presently  entered  it  into  his  booke,  or  otherwise 
might  have  lost  it.  He  had  drawne  the  designe  of  the 
booke  into  chapters,  &c.  he  knew  whereabout  it  would 
come  in.     Thus  that  booke  was  made. 

"He  wrote  and  published  the  Leviathan  far  from  the 


*Mr  Hobbes  Considered,  p.  4  printed  1662,  since  reprinted. 
1680,  by  W.  Crooke.  [The  subsequent  quotations  by  Aubrey  are 
from  the  same  source.  1 


XVI 


LIFE   OF   HOBBES 


LIFE   OF   HOBBES 


xvu 


intention  either  of  disadvantage  to  his  Majestic,  or  to 
flatter  Oliver  (who  was  not  made  Protector  till  three  or 
four  yeares  after)  on  purpose  to  facilitate  his  returne; 
for  there  is  scarce  a  page  in  it  that  he  does  not  upraid 
him. 

**  Twas  written  in  the  behalfe  of  the  faithfull  sub- 
jects of  his  Majestic,  that  had  taken  his  part  in  the  war, 
or  otherwise  done  their  utmost  endeavour  to  defend  his 
Majestie's  right  and  person  against  the  rebells :  whereby, 
having  no  other  meanes  of  protection,  nor  (for  the  most 
part)  of  subsistence,  were  forced  to  compound  with  your 
masters,  and  to  promise  obedience  for  the  saving  of  their 
Hves  and  fortunes,  which  in  his  booke  he  hath  affirmed, 
they  might  lawfully  doe,  and  consequently  not  bear  arms 
against  the  victors.  They  had  done  their  utmost  en- 
deavour to  performe  their  obligation  to  the  King,  had 
done  all  they  could  be  obliged  unto;  and  were  conse- 
quently at  liberty  to  seeke  the  safety  of  their  lives  and 
livelihood  wheresoever,  and  without  treachery. 

"His  Majestic  was  displeased  with  him  (at  Paris)  for 
a  while,  but  not  very  long,  by  means  of  some  complayn- 
ing  of,  and  misconstruing  his  writing.  But  his  Majestic 
had  a  good  opinion  of  him,  and  sayd  openly,  that  he 
thought  Mr.  Hobbes  never  meant  him  hurt. 

"Before  his  booke  'Dc  Homine'  came  forth,  nothing 
of  the  optiques  writt  intelligibly.  As  for  the  Optiques 
of  Vitellio,  and  sevcrall  others,  he  accounts  them  rather 
geometry  than  optiques. 

"So  also  of  all  other  arts ;  not  every  one  that  brings 
from  beyond  seas  a  new  gin,  or  other  janty  devise, 
is  therefore  a  philosopher.  For  if  you  reckon  that  way, 
not  only  apothecaries  and  gardeners,  but  many  other 
sorts  of  workmen  will  put  in  for,  and  get  the  prize. 

"Then,  when  I  see  the  gentlemen  of  Gresham  Colleg^e 


I 

^ 


apply  themselves  to  the  doctrine  of  motion  (as  Mr. 
Hobbes  has  done,  and  will  be  ready  to  helpe  them  in  it, 
if  they  please,  and  so  long  as  they  use  him  civilly),  I  will 
looke  to  know  some  causes  of  naturall  events  from  them, 
and  their  register,  and  not  before ;  for  nature  does  noth- 
ing but  by  motion. 

"The  reason  given  by  him,  why  the  drop  of  glass  so 
much  wondered  at,  shivers  into  so  many  pieces,  by  break- 
ing only  one  small  part  of  it,  is  approved  for  probable, 
and  registered  in  their  colledge :  but  he  has  no  reason  to 
take  it  for  a  favour,  because  hereafter  the  invention  may 
be  taken,  by  that  means,  not  for  his,  but  theirs. 

"As  for  his  self-praise,  they  can  have  very  little  skill 
in  morality,  who  cannot  see  the  justice  of  commending  a 
man's  selfe,  as  well  as  of  anything  else,  in  his  own  de- 
fence. 

"Then  for  his  morosity  and  peevishnesse,  with  which 
some  asperse  him,  all  that  know  him  familiarly,  know  the 
contrary.  It  is  true,  that  when  vain  and  ignorant  young 
scholars,  unknown  to  him  before,  come  to  him  on  purpose 
to  argue  with  him,  and  fall  into  indiscrete  and  uncivill 
expressions,  and  he  then  appeare  not  well  contented,  it 
was  not  his  morosity,  but  their  vanity,  which  should  be 

blamed." 

Anno  1650  or  1651,  he  returned  into  England  and 
lived  most  part  in  London,  in  Fetter-lane,  where  he  writ, 
or  finished  his  booke  "De  Corpore",  which  came  out 
Anno  ...  in  Latin,  and  then  in  English,  and  writt 
his  lessons  against  the  Savilian  Professors  at  Oxon. 

About  this  time  (1655  or  1656)  he  settled  the  piece  of 
land,  given  to  him  by  his  uncle,  upon  his  nephew  Francis 
for  life,  the  remainder  to  his  nephew's  eldest  son,  Thomas 
Hobbes ;  he  also  not  long  after  discharged  a  mortgage  of 
two  hundred  pounds,  besides  the  interest  thereof,  with 


XVlll 


LIFE   OF   HOBBES 


which  his  nephew  Francis  (a  careless  husband)  had  in- 
cumbered his  estate. 

He  was  much  in  London  till  the  restauration  of  his 
Majesty,  having  here  convenience  not  only  of  bookes, 
but  of  learned  conversation,  as  Mr.  J.  Selden,  Dr.  Wm. 
Harvey,  J.  Vaughan,  &c.  whereof  anon  in  the  catalogue 
of  his  acquaintance.  I  have  heard  him  say,  that  in  my 
Lord's  house,  in  Derbyshire,  there  was  a  good  library, 
and  bookes  enough  for  him,  and  his  Lordship  stored  the 
library  with  what  bookes  he  thought  fitt  to  be  bought ; 
but  he  savd,  the  want  of  good  conversation  was  a  very 
great  inconvenience,  and  that  though  he  conceived  he 
could  order  his  thinking  as  well  perhaps  as  another,  yet 
he  found  a  great  defect:  methinkes  in  the  country,  in 
long  time,  for  want  of  good  conversation,  one's  under- 
standing and  invention  grow  mouldy. 

Amongst  other  of  his  acquaintance,  I  must  not  forget 
our  common  friend,  Mr.  Samuel  Cowper,  the  prince  of 
limners  of  this  last  age,  who  drew  his  picture  as  like  as 
art  could  afford,  and  one  of  the  best  pieces  that  ever  he 
did ;  which  his  Majesty,  at  his  returne,  bought  of  him, 
and  conserves  as  one  of  his  greatest  rarities  in  his  closet, 

at  Whitehall. 

The  winter-time  of  1659  he  spent  in  Derbyshire;  m 
March  following  was  the  dawning  of  the  coming  in  of 
our  gracious  sovereign,  and  in  April  the  Aurora.  It 
happened  about  two  or  three  dayes  after  his  Majesty's 
happy  returne,  that  as  he  was  passing  in  his  coach 
through  the  Strand,  Mr.  Hobbes  was  standing  at  Little 
Salisbury-house  gate,  (where  his  Lord  then  lived,)  the 
King  espied  him,  putt  off  his  hatt  very  kindly  to  him, 
and  asked  him  how  he  did.  About  a  week  after  he  had 
oral  conference  with  his  Majesty  and  Mr.  S.  Cowper, 
v'here,  as  he  sat  for  his  picture,  he  was  diverted  by  Mr. 


LIFE   OF   HOBBES 


XIX 


Hobbes's  pleasant  discourse.  Here  his  Majesty's  favours 
were  redintegrated  to  him,  and  order  was  given  that  he 
should  have  free  accesse  to  his  Majesty,  who  was  always 
much  delighted  in  his  witt  and  smart  repartees.  The 
witts  at  Court  were  wont  to  bayte  him;  but  he  would 
make  his  part  good,  and  feared  none  of  them.  The  King 
would  call  him  the  Beare :  Here  comes  th€  Beare  to  he 
bayted.  He  was  marvellous  happy  and  ready  in  his  re- 
plies, and  that  without  rancour,  (except  provoked)  ;  but 
now  I  speake  of  his  readiness  in  replies  as  to  witt  and 
drollery.  He  would  say,  that  he  did  not  care  to  g^ve, 
neither  was  he  adroit  at,  a  present  answer  to  a  serious 
quaere ;  he  had  as  lieve  they  should  have  expected  an  ex- 
temporary solution  to  an  arithmetical!  probleme,  for  he 
turned,  and  winded,  and  compounded  in  philosophy, 
politiques,  &c.  as  if  he  had  been  at  mathematical!  worke ; 
he  always  avoided,  as  much  as  he  could,  to  conclude 
hastily. 

In  1659,  and  some  yeares  before,  his  lord  was  at  Lit- 
tle Salisbury-house  (now  turned  into  the  Middle-Ex- 
change), where  he  wrote,  among  other  things,  a  poeme 
in  Latin  hexameter  and  pentameter,  on  the  Encroach- 
ment of  the  Clergie  (both  Roman  and  Reformed)  on  the 
Civil  Power.  I  remember  I  saw  there  five  hundred 
verses  and  more.  He  did  read  Cluverius's  Historia  Uni- 
versalis, and  made  up  his  poeme  from  thence.  His  place 
of  meditation  was  then  in  the  portico  in  the  garden.  He 
sayd  that  he  sometimes  would  sett  his  thoughts  upon  re- 
searching and  contemplating,  always  with  this  proviso, 
that  he  very  much  and  deeply  considered  one  thing  at  a 
time, — sc.  a  weeke  or  sometimes  a  fortnight.  There  was 
a  report  (and  surely  true)  that  in  Parliament,  not  long 
after  the  King  was  settled,  some  of  the  Bishops  made  a 
motion,  to  have  the  good  old  gentleman  burned  for  a 


XX 


LIFE   OF    HOBBES 


LIFE   OF   HOBBES 


XXI 


heretique ;  which  he  hearing,  feared  that  his  papers  might 
be  searched  by  their  order,  and  he  told  me  that  he  had 
burned  part  of  them.  I  have  received  word  from  his 
amanuensis  and  executor,  that  he  remembers  there  were 
such  verses,  for  he  wrote  them  out,  but  knowes  not  what 
became  of  them,  unless  he  presented  them  to  Judge 
Vaughan,  or  burned  them,  as  I  did  seeme  to  intimate. 
(But  I  understand  since  by  W.  Crooke,  that  he  can  re- 
trieve a  great  many  of  them.) 

From  1660,  till  the  time  he  last  went  into  Derbyshire, 
he  spent  most  part  of  his  time  in  London,  at  his  Lord's, 
viz.  at  Little  Salisbury-house,  then  Queen-street,  lastly 
Newport-house ;  following  his  contemplation  and  study. 
He  contemplated  and  invented  in  the  morning,  but  penned 

in  the  afternoon. 

In  1664,  I  sayd  to  him,  "Methinkes  'tis  pity,  that  you 
that  have  such  a  cleare  reason  and  inventive  head  did 
never  take  into  consideration,  the  learning  of  the  lawes," 
and  I  endeavoured  to  persuade  him  to  it ;  but  he  answered 
that  he  was  not  like  to  have  life  enough  left,  to  goe 
through  with  such  a  long  and  difficult  task.  I  then  pre- 
sented him,  in  order  thereunto,  and  to  draw  him  on, 
the  Lord  Ch.  Bacon's  Elements  of  the  Lawe  (a  thin  4to.) 
which  he  was  pleased  to  accept,  and  the  next  time  I  came 
to  him  he  shewed  me  therein,  two  cleare  paralogisms, 
which  I  am  heartily  sorry  are  now  out  of  my  remem- 
brance. 

I  desponded  that  he  should  make  any  attempt  (tenta- 
men)  towards  this  designe.  But  afterwards,  it  seemes, 
in  the  countrv,  he  writt  this  treatise  "De  Legibus",  (un- 
printed)  of  which  Sir  J.  Vaughan,  Ld.  Chief  Justice  of 
the  Common  Pleas,  had  a  transcript,  and  I  doe  affirm  that 
he  much  admired  it. 

1665.  This  yeare  he  told  me  that  he  w^as  willmg  to  doe 


> 


some  good  to  the  towne  where  he  was  borne;  that  his 
Majestie  loved  him  well,  and  if  I  could  find  out  some- 
thing in  our  country  that  was  in  his  orift,  he  did  believe 
he  could  beg  it  of  his  Majestie,  and  since  he  was  bred  a 
scholar,  he  thought  it  most  proper  to  found  a  free-school 
there,  which  is  wanting  nozv;  for  before  the  Reformation, 
all  monasteries  had  great  schooles  appendant  to  them. 
After  inquiry  T  found  out  a  piece  of  land  in  Braden-for- 
est,  that  was  in  his  Majestie's  pos-session,  of  about  25I. 
per  annum  value,  which  he  hoped  to  have  obtained  of 
his  Majestie,  for  a  salary  for  a  schoolmaster;  but  the 
Queen's  priests,  smelling  out  the  designe,  and  being  his 
enemies,  prevented  this  public  and  charitable  intention. 

A'o.  D'ni.  1674,  Mr.  Anthony  a  Wood  sett  forth  an 
elaborate  worke  of  eleven  yeares'  study,  intituled  the 
"History  and  Antiquities  of  the  University  of  Oxford,'" 
wherein,  in  every  respective  Colledge  and  Hall,  he  men- 
tions the  writers  there  educated,  and  what  books  they 
wrote.  The  Deane  of  Christ  Church,  having  the  ab- 
solute power  of  the  presse  there,  perused  every  sheet  be- 
fore it  was  sent  to  the  presse,  and  after,  and  maugre  the 
author,  and  to  his  great  grief  and  sore  displeasure,  ex- 
punged and  inserted,  what  he  thought  fitt.  Among  other 
authors,  he  made  divers  alterations  in  Mr.  Wood's  copie, 
in  the  account  he  gives  of  Mr.  T.  Hobbes  of  Malmes- 
bury's  Life,  in  p.  376,  377,  Lib.  H.  "Vir  sane  de  quo 
(inter  tot  prosperae  et  adversae  famae  qui  de  eo  spargun- 
tur  hominum  sermones)  hoc  verissime  pronuntiare  fas 
est,  animum  ipsi  obtigisse,  uti  omnis  scientiae  capacis- 
simum  et  infertum,  ita  divitiarum,  saeculi,  et  invidiae 
negligentissimum ;  erga  cognatos  et  alios  pium  et  bene- 
ficum.  Inter  eos  quibuscum  vixit,  hilarem  et  apertum,  et 
sermone  Hbero.  Apud  exteros  summa  semper  venera- 
tione  habitum,"  &c.  This  and  much  more  was  quite 
dashed  out  of  the  author's  copie  by  the  sayd  Deane. 


XX 


LIFE  OF    HOBBES 


heretique ;  which  he  hearing,  feared  that  his  papers  mij^ht 
be  searched  by  their  order,  and  he  told  me  that  he  had 
burned  part  of  them.  I  have  received  word  from  his 
amanuensis  and  executor,  that  he  remembers  there  were 
such  verses,  for  he  wrote  them  out,  but  knowes  not  what 
became  of  them,  unless  he  presented  them  to  Judc^e 
Vaughan,  or  burned  them,  as  I  did  seeme  to  intimate. 
(But  I  understand  since  by  W.  Crooke,  that  he  can  re- 
trieve a  great  many  of  them.) 

From  1660,  till  the  time  he  last  went  into  Derbyshire, 
he  spent  most  part  of  his  time  in  London,  at  his  Lord's, 
viz.  at  Little  Salisbury-house,  then  Queen-street,  lastly 
Newport-house;  following  his  contemplation  and  study. 
He  contemplated  and  invented  in  the  morning,  but  penned 

in  the  afternoon. 

In  1664,  I  savd  to  him,  '^Methinkes  'tis  pity,  that  you 
that  have  such  a  cleare  reason  and  inventive  head  did 
never  take  into  consideration,  the  learning  of  the  lawes," 
and  I  endeavoured  to  persuade  him  to  it ;  but  he  answered 
that  he  was  not  like  to  have  life  enough  left,  to  goe 
through  with  such  a  long  and  difficult  task.  I  then  pre- 
sented him,  in  order  thereunto,  and  to  draw  him  on, 
the  Lord  Ch.  Bacon's  Elements  of  the  Lawe  (a  thin  4to.) 
which  he  was  pleased  to  accept,  and  the  next  time  I  came 
to  him  he  shewed  me  therein,  two  cleare  paralogisms, 
which  I  am  heartily  sorry  are  now  out  of  my  remem- 
brance. 

I  desponded  that  he  should  make  any  attempt  (tenta- 
men)  towards  this  designe.  But  afterwards,  it  seemes, 
in  the  countrv,  he  writt  this  treatise  *'De  Legibus",  (un- 
printed)  of  which  Sir  J.  Vaughan,  Ld.  Chief  Justice  of 
the  Common  Pleas,  had  a  transcript,  and  I  doe  affirm  that 

he  much  admired  it. 

1665.  This  yeare  he  told  me  that  he  was  willing  to  doe 


LIFE  OF   HOBBES 


XXI 


some  good  to  the  towne  where  he  was  borne;  that  his 
Majestic  loved  him  well,  and  if  I  could  find  out  some- 
thing in  our  country  that  was  in  his  srift,  he  did  believe 
he  could  beg  it  of  his  Majestie,  and  since  he  was  bred  a 
scholar,  he  thought  it  most  proper  to  found  a  free-school 
there,  which  is  wanting  now;  for  before  the  Reformation, 
all  monasteries  had  great  schooles  appendant  to  them. 
After  inquiry  T  found  out  a  piece  of  land  in  Braden-for- 
est,  that  was  in  his  Majestie's  possession,  of  about  25I. 
per  annum  value,  which  he  hoped  to  have  obtained  of 
his  Majestie,  for  a  salary  for  a  schoolmaster;  but  the 
Queen's  priests,  smelling  out  the  designe,  and  being  his 
enemies,  prevented  this  public  and  charitable  intention. 

A'o.  D'ni.  1674,  Mr.  Anthony  a  Wood  sett  forth  an 
elaborate  worke  of  eleven  yeares'  study,    intituled    the 
*^History  and  Antiquities  of  the  University  of  Oxford," 
wherein,  in  every  respective  Colledge  and  Hall,  he  men- 
tions the  writers  there  educated,  and  what  books  they 
wrote.     The   Deane  of   Christ   Church,  having  the  ab- 
solute power  of  the  presse  there,  perused  every  sheet  be- 
fore it  was  sent  to  the  presse,  and  after,  and  maugre  the 
author,  and  to  his  great  grief  and  sore  displeasure,  ex- 
punged and  inserted,  what  he  thought  fitt.   Among  other 
authors,  he  made  divers  alterations  in  Mr.  Wood's  copie, 
in  the  account  he  gives  of  Mr.  T.  Hobbes  of  Malmes- 
bury's  Life,  in  p.  376,  377»  Lib.  H.     "Vir  sane  de  quo 
(inter  tot  prosperae  et  adversae  famae  qui  de  eo  spargun- 
tur  hominum  sermones)    hoc  verissime  pronuntiare  fas 
est,  animum  ipsi  obtigisse,  uti  omnis   scientiae  capacis- 
simum  et   infertum,  ita  divitiarum,    saeculi,   et  invidiae 
negligentissimum ;  erga  cognatos  et  alios  pium  et  bene- 
ficum.     Inter  eos  quibuscum  vixit,  hilarem  et  apertum,  et 
sermone  libero.     Apud  exteros   summa  semper  venera- 
tione  habitum,"  &c.        This  and  much  more  was  quite 
dashed  out  of  the  author's  copie  by  the  sayd  Deane. 


XXll 


LIFE  OF   HOBBES 


These  additions  and  expunctions  being  made  by  the 
sayd  Deane  of  Christ  Church,  without  the  advice,  and 
quite  contrary  to  the  mind  of  the  author,  he  told  him,  it 
was  fitt  Mr.  Hobbes  should  know  what  he  had  done,  be- 
cause that  his  name  being  set  to  the  booke,  and  all  people 
knowing  it  to  be  his,  he  should  be  liable  to  an  answer,  and 
so  consequently  be  in  perpetual  controversie.  To  this 
the  Deane  replied,  ''Yea  in  God's  name,  and  great  reason 
it  was  that  he  should  know  what  he  had  done,  and  what 
he  had  done  he  would  answer  for,"  &c. 

Hereupon,  in  the  beginning  of  1674,  the  author  ac- 
quaints J.  W.  Mr.  Hobbes's  correspondent,  with  all  that 
had  passed.  J.  W.  acquaints  Mr.  Hobbes.  Mr.  Hobbes 
taking  it  ill  was  resolved  to  vindicate  himself  in  an 
Epistle  to  the  author,  accordingly  an  epistle,  dated  Apr. 
20,  1674,  was  sent  to  the  author  in  MS.  with  an  intention 
to  publish  it,  when  the  History  of  Oxford  was  to  be  pub- 
lished. Upon  the  receipt  of  Mr.  Hobbes's  Epistle  by  An- 
thony a  Wood,  he  forthwith  repaired,  very  honestly  and 
without  any  guile,  to  the  Deane  of  Christ  Church,  to 
communicate  it  to  him,  and  to  let  him  see  that  he  would 
do  nothing  under-hand  against  him.  The  Deane  read  it 
over  carelessly,  and  not  without  scorne,  and  when  he 
had  done,  bid  Mr.  Wood  tell  Mr.  Hobbes,  "that  he  was 
an  old  man,  had  one  foote  in  the  grave,  that  he  should 
mind  his  latter  end,  and  not  trouble  the  world  any  more 
with  his  papers,"  &c.  or  to  that  eflFect. 

In  the  meane  time  Mr.  Hobbes  meetes  with  the  King 
in  the  Pall-mall,  in  St.  James's  parke ;  tells  him  how  he 
had  been  served  by  the  Deane  of  Christ  Church,  in  a 
booke  then  in  presse,  intituled  the  "History  and  Antiqui- 
ties of  the  Universitie  of  Oxon,"  and  withall  desires  his 
Majestic  to  be  pleased  to  give  him  leave  to  vindicate 
himself.     The  King  seeming  to  be  troubled  at  the  deal- 


LIFE  OF   HOBBES 


XXlll 


ing  of  the  Deane,  gave  Mr.  Hobbes  leave,  conditionally, 
that  he  touch  nobody  but  him  who  had  abused  him, 
neither  that  he  should  reflect  upon  the  Universitie. 

Mr.  Hobbes  understanding  that  this  History  would 
be  published  at  the  Common  Act,  at  Oxon,  about  1 1  July, 
the  said  year,  1674,  prints  his  Epistle  at  London,  and 
sends  downe  divers  copies  to  Oxon,  which  bemg  dis- 
persed  at  Coffee-houses  and  Stationers'  shops,  a  copy 
forthwith  came  to  the  Deane's  hands,  who  upon  the  read- 
ing of  it  fretted  and  fumed  at  it  as  a  most  famous  libell, 
and  soon  after  meeting  with  the  author  of  the  History 
chid  him,  telling  him  that  he  had  corresponded  with  his 
enemie  (Hobbes).  The  author  replied,  that  surely  he 
had  forgot  what  he  had  donne,  for  he  had  communicated 
to  him  before  what  Mr.  Hobbes  had  sayd  and  written ; 
whereupon  the  Deane  recollecting  himselfe,  told  him, 
that  Hobbes  should  suddenly  heare  more  of  him,  and  that 
he  would  have  the  printer  called  to  an  account  for  print- 
ing such  a  notorious  libell. 

1675.  He  left  London,  cum  animo  nunquam  rever- 
tendi,  and  spent  the  remainder  of  his  dayes  in  Derby- 
shire, with  the  E.  of  Devon,  at  Chatsworth  and  Hard- 
wyck,  in  contemplation  and  study. 

'  Tis  of  custom,  in  the  Lives  of  wise  men  to  putt 
downe  their  sayings;  now  if  trueth  (uncommon)  deliv- 
ered clearly  and  wittily  goes  for  a  saying,  his  common 
discourse  was  full  of  them,  which  for  the  most  part  were 
sharp  and  significant. 

In  his  youth  he  was  unhealthy,  and  of  an  ill  com- 
plexion, (yellowish).  His  Lord,  who  was  a  waster,  sent 
him  up  and  downe  to  borrow  money,  and  to  get  gent, 
to  be  bound  for  him,  being  ashamed  to  speake  himselfe ; 
he  took  cold,  being  wett  in  his  feet,  and  trod  both  his 
shoes  aside  the  same  way.        Notwithstanding  he  was 


XXIV 


LIFE  OF  HOBBES 


LIFE  OF  HOBBES 


XXV 


V 


well-beloved,  they  loved  his  company  for  his  pleasant 
facetiousness  and  suavity.  From  forty  he  crrew  healthier, 
and  then  he  had  a  fresh  ruddy  complexion ;  he  was  san- 
guineo-melancholicus,  which  the  physiologers  say  is  the 
most  ingeniose  complexion.  He  would  say,  that  there 
might  be  good  witts  of  all  complexions;  but  good  na- 
tnred,  impossible. 

In  his  old  age  he  was  very  bald,  yet  within  dore  he 
used  to  study,  and  sitt  bare-headed,  and  sayd  he  never 
tooke  cold  in  his  head,  but  that  the  greatest  trouble  was 
to  keepe  oflP  the  flies  from  pitching  on  the  baldness.  His 
head  was  of  a  mallet  forme,  approved  by  the  physiologers. 
His  face  not  very  great,  ample  forehead,  yellowish 
reddish  whiskers,  which  naturally  turned  up;  belowe  he 
was  shaved  close,  except  a  little  tip  under  his  lip ;  not  but 
that  nature  would  have  aflforded  him  a  venerable  beard, 
but  being  mostly  of  a  cheerful  and  pleasant  humour,  he 
affected  not  at  all  austerity  and  gravity,  and  to  look  se- 
vere. He  considered  gravity  and  heavinesse  of  counten- 
ance not  so  good  marks  of  assurance  of  God's  favour,  as 
a  cheerful,  charitable,  and  upright  behaviour,  which  are 
better  signes  of  religion  than  the  zealous  maintaining  of 
controverted  doctrines. 

He  had  a  good  eie,  and  that  of  a  hazel  colour,  which 
was  full  of  life  and  spirit,  even  to  his  last ;  when  he  was 
in  discourse,  there  shone  (as  it  were)  a  bright  live  coale 
within  it.  He  had  two  kinds  of  looks ;  when  he  laught, 
was  witty,  and  in  a  merry  humour,  one  could  scarce  see 
his  eies :  by  and  by  when  he  was  serious  and  earnest,  he 
opened  his  eies  round  his  eie-lids;  he  had  midling  eies, 
not  very  big,  nor  very  little. 

He  was  six  foote  high,  and  something  better,  and 
went  indifferently  erect,  or  rather,  considering  his  great 
age,  very  erect. 


\ 


His  sight  and  witt  continued  to  his  last.  He  had  a 
curious  sharp  sight,  as  he  had  a  sharp  witt :  which  was 
also  so  sure  and  steady,  that  I  have  heard  him  often- 
times say,  that  in  multiplying  and  dividing  he  never  mis- 
took a  figure,  and  so  in  other  things.  He  thought  much, 
and  with  excellent  method  and  readiness,  which  made 
him  seldom  make  a  false  step.  He  had  read  much,  if  one 
considers  his  long  life,  but  his  contemplation  was  much 
more  than  his  reading.  He  was  wont  to  say,  that  if  he 
had  read  as  much  as  other  men,  he  should  have  contmued 
still  as  ignorant  as  other  men. 

He  seldom  used  any  physique.  He  was  wont  to  say 
that  he  had  rather  have  the  advice,  or  take  physique 
from  an  experienced  old  woman,  that  had  been  at  many 
sick  people's  bed-sides,  than  from  the  most  learned  but 
unexperienced  physitian. 

It  is  not  consistent  with  an  harmonicall  soule  to  be  a 
^^  oman-hater,  neither  had  he  an  abhorrence  to  good  wine, 
but  he  was  even  in  his  youth  (generally)  temperate,  both 
as  to  wine  and  women  (et  tamen  haec  omnia  tnediocnter. 
Homo  sum,  humani  nihil  a  mc  alienum  puto.)  I  have 
heard  him  say  that  he  has  been  drunke  in  his  life,  a  hun- 
dred times,  which  considering  his  great  age,  did  not 
amount  to  above  once  a  year ;  when  he  did  drinke,  he 
would  drinke  to  excesse  to  have  the  benefit  of  vomiting, 
which  he  did  easily,  by  which  benefit  neither  his  witt  was 
disturbed  nor  his  stomach  oppressed ;  but  he  never  was, 
nor  could  endure  to  be,  habitually  a  good  fellow,  i.  e  to 
drink  every  day  wine  with  company,  which  though  not 
to  drunkennesse,  spoiles  the  braine.  ^ 

For  his  last  thirty  yeares.  or  more,  his  diet,  &c.  was 
verv  moderate,  and  regular:  after  sixty  he  dranke  no 
wine  his  stomach  grew  weak,  and  he  did  eate  mostly 
fish, 'especially   whitings;   for  he  sayd  he  digested  fish 


^ 


XXVI 


LIFE   OF   HOBBES 


LIFE  OF   HOBBES 


XXVll 


better  than  flesh.  He  rose  about  seaven,  had  his  break- 
fast of  bread  and  butter,  and  tooke  his  walke,  meditating 
till  ten,  then  he  did  putt  downe  the  minutes  of  his 
thoughts.  His  dinner  was  provided  for  him  exactly  by 
eleaven,  for  he  could  not  now  stay  till  his  Lord's  houre, 
— sc.  about  two.  After  dinner  he  tooke  a  pipe  of  to- 
bacco, and  then  threw  himself  immediately  on  his  bed, 
with  his  band  off,  and  slept  about  halfe  an  houre ;  in  the 
afternoon  he  penned  his  morning  thoughts. 

Besides  his  dayly  walking,  he  did  twice  or  thrice  a 
yeare  play  at  tennis,  (at  about  seventy-five  he  did  it) 
then  went  to  bed  and  was  well-rubbed.  This  he  did  be- 
lieve would  make  him  live  two  or  three  yeares  the  longer. 

He  gave  to  James  Wheldon,  his  amanuensis,  (who 
writes  a  delicate  hand)  his  pension  at  Leicester,  yearly, 
to  wayte  on  him,  and  take  care  of  him,  which  he  did  per- 
forme  to  him  living  and  dying,  with  great  respect  and 
diligence :  for  which  consideration  he  made  him  his  exe- 
cutor. 

In  cold  weather  he  commonly  wore  a  black  velvet 
coate,  lined  with  furre ;  if  not,  some  other  coate  so  lined ; 
but  all  the  yeare  he  wore  a  kind  of  bootes  (buskins)  of 
Spanish  leather,  laced  or  tyed  along  the  sides  with  black 

ribbons. 

He  had  always  bookes  of  prick-song  lying  on  his 
table:— e.  g.  of  H.  Lawes,  &c.  songs,— which  at  night, 
when  he  was  abed,  and  the  dores  made  fast,  and  was 
sure  nobody  heard  him,  he  sang  aloud,  (not  that  he  had 
a  good  voice)  but  for  his  health's  sake ;  he  did  believe  it 
did  his  lunges  good,  and  conduced  much  to  prolong  his 

life. 

He  had  the  shaking  palsy  in  his  hands ;  which  began 
in  France  before  the  year  1650,  and  has  growne  upon  hina 
by  degrees  ever  since;  so  that  he  has  not  been  able  to 


• 


write  legibly  since  1665  or  1666,  as  I  find  by  some  of  his 
letters  to  me  that  he  honoured  me  withall. 

His  love  to  his  kindred  hath  already  been  spoken  of. 
He  was  very  charitable  (e  suo  modulo)  to  those  that 
were  true  objects  of  his  bounty. 

One  time,  I  remember,  goeing  in  the  Strand,  a  poor 
and  infirme  old  man  begged  his  almes ;  he  beholding  him 
with  eies  of  pitty  and  compassion,  putt  his  hand  in  his 
pocket,  and  gave  him  6d. ;  Sayd  a  divine  (sc.  Dr.  Jasper 
Mayne)  that  stood  by,  "Would  you  have  done  this,  if  it 
had  not  been  Christ's  command?"  "Yea,"  sayd  he; 
"Why  ?"  quoth  the  other ;  "Because,"  sayd  he,  "I  was  in 
paine  to  consider  the  miserable  condition  of  the  old  man ; 
and  now  my  almes,  giving  him  some  relief,  doth  also  ease 


me. 


ff 


His  work  was  attended  with  envy,  which  threw  sev- 
erall  aspersions  and  false  reports  on  him;  for  instance, 
one  was,  that  he  was  afrayd  to  lye  alone  at  night  in  his 
chamber.  I  have  often  heard  him  say,  that  he  was  not 
afrayd  of  sprights,  but  afrayd  of  being  knockt  on  the 
head  for  five  or  ten  pounds,  which  rogues  might  thinke 
he  had  in  his  chamber ;  and  severall  other  tales,  as  un- 
true. 

I  have  heard  some  positively  affirme,  that  he  had  a 
yearly  pension  from  the  King  of  France;  possibly  for 
having  asserted  such  a  monarchic  as  the  King  of  France 
exercises ;  but  for  what  other  grounds  I  know  not ;  un- 
less it  be  for  that  the  present  King  of  France  is  reputed 
an  encourager  of  choice  and  able  men  in  all  faculties, 
who  can  attribute  to  his  greatness.  I  never  heard  him 
speake  of  any  such  thing ;  since  his  death  I  have  inquired 
of  his  most  intimate  friends  in  Derbyshire,  who  wrote  to 
me,  they  never  heard  of  any  such  thing.  Had  it  been  so, 
[neither]  he,  nor  they,  ought  to  have  been  ashamed  of  it. 


/ 


XXVlll 


LIFE   OF   HOBBES 


LIFE  OF   HOBBES 


XXIX 


and  it  had  been  becoming  the  munificence  of  so  great  a 
prince  to  have  donne  it. 

For  his  being  branded  with  atheisme,  his  writings 
and  virtuous  life  testify  against  it.  And  that  he  was  a 
Christian  is  clear,  for  he  received  the  sacrament;  and  in 
his  confession  to  Dr.  Cosins,  at  .  .  .on  his  (as  he 
thought)  death-bed,  declared  that  he  liked  the  religion 
of  the  Church  of  England  best  of  all  other. 

He  would  have  the  worship  of  God  performed  with 
musique. 


Catalogue  of  his  Learned  Familiar  Friends  and  Ac- 
quaintance, besides  those  already  mentioned,  that 
I  remember  him  to  have  spoken  of. 

Mr.  Benjamin  Jonson,  Poet-Laureate,  was  his  loving 
and  familiar  friend  and  acquaintance. 

.  .  .  Ayton,  Scoto-Britannus,  a  good  poet  and 
critique.  He  was  needy  related  to  his  Lord's  lady,  and 
he  desired  Ben  Jonson,  and  this  gent,  to  give  their  judg- 
ment on  his  style  of  his  translation  of  Thucydides. 

Sydney  Godolphin,  Esq.  was  his  great  friend.  He 
left  him,  in  his  will,  a  legacy  of  an  hundred  pounds;  and 
Mr.  Hobbes  hath  left  him  an  eternal  monument  in  lib. 
...    of  his  Leviathan. 

Lucius  Carey,  Lord  Falkland,  was  his  great  friend 
and  admirer :  and  so  was  Sir  William  Petty ;  both  which 
I  had  here  enrolled  amongst  those  friends  I  have  heard 
him  speake  of,  but  Dr.  Blackburne  left  them  out  (to  mv 
admiration).  I  asked  him  why  he  had  donne  so?  He 
answered,  because  they  were  both  ignote  to  foreigners. 

Mr.  Henry  Gellibrand,  Astronomy  Professor  at  Gres- 
ham  College. 

When  he  was  at  Florence,  he  contracted  a  friendship 
with  the  famous  Galileo  Galilei,  whom  he  extremely  ven- 


„ 


erated  and  magnified;  not  only  as  he  was  a  prodigious 
witt,  but  for  his  sweetness  of  nature  and  manners.  They 
pretty  well  resembled  one  another.  They  were  not  much 
unlike  in  the  countenance,  as  by  their  pictures  may  ap- 
pear. They  were  both  cheerfull  and  melancholique- 
sanguine ;  and  had  both  a  consimilitie  of  fate,  to  be  hated 
and  persecuted  by  the  ecclesiastiques. 

Petrus  Gassendus,  S.  Th.  Doctor  et  Regius  Professor 
Parisiis,  whom  he  never  mentions  but  with  great  honour 
and  respect.  Doctissimus,  humanissimus.  They  laud 
each  other  entirely,  as  also  the  like  love  and  friendship 
was  betwixt  him,  and 

Marinus  Mersennus,  * 

Mons'r  Renatus  Des  Cartes, 
.     .     .     Niceron, 
Samuel  Sorbier,  M.  D. 

Verdusius,  to  whom  he  dedicates  his  Dialogi. 
Sr.  William  Petty  (of  Ireland)  Reg.  Soc.  Socius,  a 
person  of  a  great  stupendous  invention,  and  of  as  great 
prudence  and  humanity,  had  a  high  esteem  of  him.    His 
acquaintance  began  at   Paris,  at    which    time    Mr.    H. 
studied  Vesalius  (Anatomy),  and  Sr.  W.  with  him.     He 
then  assisted  Mr.  H.  in  drawing  his  schemes  for  his  booke 
of  optiques,  for  he  had  a  very  fine  hand  in  those  dayes 
for  drawing,  which  draughts  Mr.  Hobbes  did  much  com- 
mend.    His   facultie  in   this   kind  conciliated   them   the 
sooner  to  the  familiarity  of  our  common  friend,  Mr.  S. 
Cowper,  at  whose  house  they  often  met.     (He  drew  his 
picture  twice,  the  first  the  K.  has,  the  other  is  yet  in  the 
custody  of  his  widowe;  but  he  gave  it,  indeed,  to  me, 
and  r  promised  I  would    give    it    to    the    archives    at 
Oxon,)  but  I,  like  a  fool,  did  not  take  possession  of  it, 
for  something  of  the  garment  was  not  quite  finished,  and 
he  dyed,  T  being  then  in  the  country. 


XXX 


LIFE   OF   HOBBES 


Mr.  Abraham  Cowley,  the  Poet,  who  hath  bestowed 
on  him  an  immortal  Pindarique  Ode,  which  is  in  his 
Poems. 

Wm.  Harvey,  Dr.  of  Physic  and  Chirurgery,  inven- 
tor of  the  Circulation  of  the  Blood,  who  left  him  in  his 
will  ten  poundes,  as  his  brother  told  me  at  his  funerall. 
(Obiit  A'o.  1657,  aetat.  80,  sepult,  at  Hempsted,  in  Es- 
sex.) 

When  his  "Leviathan"  came  out,  he  sent  by  Andr. 
Crooke,  his  stationer's  man,  a  copie  of  it,  well-bound,  to 
Mr.  John  Selden,  in  Aedihus  Carmeliticis ;  ^Ir.  Selden 
told  the  servant,  he  did  not  know  Mr.  Hobbes,  but  had 
heard  mufth  of  his  worth,  and  that  he  should  be  very  glad 
to  be  acquainted  with  him;  whereupon  Mr.  Hobbes 
wavted  on  him;  from  which  time  there  was  a  strickt 
friendship  between  them  to  his  dyeing  day.  He  left  to 
Mr.  Hobbes,  by  his  will,  a  legacy  of  ten  pounds. 

Sr.  John  Vaughan,  Lord  Chiefe  Justice  of  the  Com- 
mon Pleas,  was  his  great  acquaintance,  to  whom  he  made 
visits,  three  times  or  more  in  a  weeke;  out  of  terme  in 
the  morning;  in  terme-time,  in  the  afternoon. 

Sr.  Charles  Scarborough,  M.  D.  Physitian  to  his 
Royal  Highnesse  the  Duke  of  Yorke,  much  loved  his  con- 
versation, and  hath  a  very  good  and  like  picture  of  him 
(drawne  about  1655),  under  which  is  this  distich,  by  Sir 
C.  Scarborough. 

Si  (luaeris  de  me,  mores  inquire,  sed  ille 
Qui  quaerit  de  me,  forsitan  alter  erit. 

Sr.  Jonas  Moore,  (Mathematicus)  Surveyor  of  his 
Majesty's  Ordinance,  who  had  a  great  veneration  for 
Mr.  Hobbes,  and  was  wont  much  to  lament  he  fell  to  the 
study  of  mathematiques  so  late. 

Mr.  Richard  White,  who  writt  "Hemispherium  Dis- 
sectum.'* 


LIFE   OF   HOBBES 


xxxi 


Edward  Lord  Herbert,  of  Cherbury  and  Castle  Island. 

Sir  W.  Davenant,  Poet-Laureate  after  B.  Jonson,  and 
Generall  of  Ordinance  to  the  Duke  of  Newcastle. 

William  Chillingworth,  D.  D.  He  would  commend 
this  Doctor  for  a  very  great  witt ;  "but  by  G — ,"  said  he, 
"he  is  like  some  lusty  fighters,  that  will  give  a  damnable 
back-blow  now  and  then  on  their  own  party." 

George  Aglionby,  D.  D.  and  Deane  of  Canterbury, 
was  also  his  great  acquaintance.  He  died  at  Oxford, 
1643,  of  the  epidemique  disease  then  raging. 

Jasper  Mayne,  D.  D.  Chaplain  to  Wm.  Marquisse  of 
Newcastle,  was  an  old  acquaintance  of  his. 

Mr.  Francis  Osbume,  author  of  "Advice  to  a  Son," 
and  several  other  treatises,  was  his  great  acquaintance. 

John  Pell,  D.  D.  Mathematicus,  quondam  Professor 
...  at  Breda,  who  quotes  him  in  his  .  .  .  contra 
Longomantanum  de  Quadratura  Circuli,  for  one  of  his 

Jury  (of  12). 

Mr.  Henry  Stubbes,  physitian,  whom  he  much  es- 
teemed for  his  great  learning  and  parts,  but  at  the  latter 
end  he  (Mr.  H.)  differed  with  him,  for  that  he  wrote 
against  the  Lord  Chancellor  Bacon,  and  the  Royall  So- 

cietie. 

Walter  Charleton,  M.  D.  Physitian  to  his  Majestic, 
and  one  of  the  Colledge  of  Physitians  in  London,  a  high 

admirer  of  him. 

Mr.  Samuel  Butler,  the  author  of  Hudibras. 

In  his  .  .  .  Dialogi  he  hath  a  noble  elogie  of  Sr. 
Christopher  Wren,  then  a  young  scholar  in  Oxon,  but  I 
thinke  they  were  not  acquainted. 

Mr.  Hooke  loved  him,  but  was  never  but  once  in  his 

company. 

Now  as  he  had  these  ingeniose  and  learned  friends, 
and  many  more,  no  question,  that  I  know  not,  or  now 


XXXll 


LIFE   OF   HOBBES 


LIFE  OF  HOBBES 


xxxiu 


escape  my  memory;  so  he  had  many  enemies,  (though 
undeserved)  for  he  would  not  provoke,  but  if  provoked, 
he  was  sharp  and  bitter,  and  as  a  prophet  is  not  esteemed 
in  his  owne  country,  so  he  was  more  esteemed  by  for- 
eigners, than  by  his  countrymen. 

He  had  very  few  bookes,  I  never  sawe  (nor  Sir  Wil- 
Ham  Petty)  above  halfe  a  dozen  about  him  in  his  cham- 
ber. Homer  and  Virgil  were  commonly  on  his  table; 
sometimes  Xenophon.  or  some  probable  Historie,  Greek 
Test,  or  so. 

I  have  heard  him  say,  that  Aristotle  was  the  worst 
teacher  that  ever  was,  the  worst  poHtician  and  ethick :  a 
country  fellow  that  could  live  in  the  world,  as  good ;  but 
his  Rhetorique  and  his  Discourse  of  Animals  was  rare. 

When  Mr.  Hobbes  was  sick  in  France,  the  divines 
came  to  him,  and  tormented  him  (both  Cathol.  Ch.  of 
England,  and  Geneva),  sayd  he  to  them,  ''Let  me  alone, 
or  else  I  will  detect  all  your  cheates  from  Aaron  to  your- 
selves." I  thinke  T  have  heard  him  speake  something  to 
this  purpose. 

Mr.  Edm.  Waller  sayd  to  me,  when  I  desired  him  to 
write  some  verses  in  praise  of  him,  that  he  was  afrayd  of 
the  churchmen;  he  quoted  Horace — "Incedo  per  ignes 
Suppositos  cineri  doloso." — That  which  was  chiefly  to  be 
taken  notice  of  in  his  Elogie  was,  that  he  being,  but  one, 
and  a  private  person,  pulled  down  all  the  churches,  dis- 
pelled the  mists  of  ignorance,  and  layd  open  their  priest- 
craft. 

In  May,  1688,  his  ''Ecclesiastica  Historia  Carmine 
Elegiaco  conscripta",  was  printed  at  Augusta  Trinoban- 
ttim,  sc.  London.  The  preface  was  writt  by  Mr.  Thomas 
Rymer,  of  Gray's  Inn ;  but  'h">ufiw<i^ 

I  remember  he  was  wont  to  say,  that  "old  men  were 
drowned  inwardly,  by  their  own  moysture; — e.g.  first 
the  feet  swell;  then  the  legges ;  then  belly,"  &c. 


He  dyed  worth  neer  loool.  which  (considering  his 
charity)  was  more  than  I  expected. 

To  conclude,  he  had  a  high  esteeme  for  the  Royal 
Societie,  having  sayd  "that  Natural  Philosophy  was  re- 
moved from  the  Universities  to  Gresham  Colledge" 
(meaning  the  Royal  Societie  that  meets  there),  and  the 
Royal  Societie  (generally)  had  the  like  for  him:  and  he 
would  long  since  have  been  ascribed  a  member  there,  but 
for  the  sake  of  one  or  two  persons,  whom  he  tooke  to  be 
his  enemies.  In  their  meeting  at  Gresham  Colledge 
is  his  picture,  drawne  by  the  life,  1663,  by  a  good  hand, 
which  they  much  esteeme,  and  severall  copies  have  been 
taken  of  it. 


The  following  account  of  his  death  is  taken  from  a 
letter  of  James  Wheldon  to  John  Aubrey  printed  in  con- 
nection witTiT^ubrey's  Life  of  Hobbes. 

"He  fell  sick  about  the  middle  of  October  last.  His 
disease  was  the  stranguary,  and  the  physitians  judged  it 
incurable  by  reason  of  his  great  age  and  naturall  decay. 
About  the  20th  of  November,  my  Lord  being  to  remove 
from  Chatsworth  to  Hardwick,  Mr.  Hobbes  would  not 
be  left  behind ;  and  therefore  with  a  feather-bed  laid  into 
the  coack,  upon  which  he  lay  warme  clad,  he  was  con- 
veyed safely,  and  was  in  appearance  as  well  after  that 
little  journey  as  before  it.  But  seven  or  eight  days 
after,  his  whole  right  side  was  taken  with  the  dead  palsy, 
and  at  the  same  time  he  was  made  speechlesse.  He  lived 
after  this  seven  days,  taking  very  little  nourishment,  slept 
well,  and  by  intervalls  endeavoured  to  speak,  but  could 
not.  In  the  whole  time  of  his  sicknesse  he  was  free  from 
fever.  He  seemed  therefore  to  dye  rather  for  want  of  the 
fuell  of  life,  (which  was  spent  in  him)  and  meer  weak- 
nesse  and  decay,  than  by  the  power  of  his  disease,  which 


.^1 


XXXIV 


LIFE  OF  HOBBES 


was  thought  to  be  only  an  eflFect  of  his  age  and  weak- 
nesse.  He  was  born  the  5th  of  Aprill,  in  the  yeare  1588, 
and  died  the  4th  of  December,  1679.  He  was  put  into 
a  woollen  shroud  and  coffin,  which  was  covered  with  a 
white  sheet,  and  upon  that  a  black  herse  cloth,  and  so 
carryed  upon  men's  shoulders,  a  little  mile  to  the  church. 
The  company,  consisting  of  the  family  and  neighbours 
that  came  to  his  funerall,  and  attended  him  to  his  grave, 
were  very  handsomely  entertained  with  wine,  burned  and 
raw,  cake,  biscuit,  &c.  He  was  buried  in  the  parish 
church  of  Hault  Hucknall,  close  adjoining  to  the  raile  of 
the  monument  of  the  grand-mother  of  the  present  Earle 
of  Devonshire,  with  the  service  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land by  the  minister  of  the  parish.  It  is  intended  to 
cover  his  grave  with  a  stone  of  black  marble  as  soon  as 
it  can  be  got  ready,  with  a  plain  inscription  of  his  name, 
the  place  of  his  birth,  and  the  time  of  that  and  of  his 
death." 


LIST  OF  THE  WRITINGS 

OF 

Thomas  Hobbes 

1628    The   History  of  the  Grecian  War  written  by  Thucydides. 

"^ — ^*        London. 

16^6    De  Mirabilibus  Pecci.     London. 

1641  Objectiones  in  Cartesii  de  Prima  Philosophia  Meditationes. 
Paris,  about  1641. 

1644    Tractatus  Opticus.    Paris. 

1647  Elementa  Philosophica  de  Give.  Amsterdam.  A  few 
copies  were  privately  printed  in  Paris,  1642,  with  the 
title,  Elementorum  Philosophiae  Sectio  Tertia.  De  Give. 
In  English;  Philosophical  Rudiments  concerning  Gov- 
ernment and  Society.    London,  165 1. 

1650    Human  Nature.    London. 

De  Gorpore  Politico,  or  Elements  of  Law.    London. 
Answer  to  Davenant's  Preface  before  Gondibert.    Pans. 
i65JL^Leyiath^"i_  London. 

16^  Of  Liberty  and  Necessity.    London. 

1655  Elementa  Philosophiae  Sectio  Prima  de  Gorpore.    London. 

Published  in  English,  London,  1656. 

1656  Six  Lessons  to  the  Professors  of  the  Mathematics.    London, 
Questions   concerning    Liberty.    Necessity,    and    Ghance. 

London. 

1657  De  Homine,  sive  Elementorum  Philosophiae  Sectio  Secun- 

da.     London.  ^ 

Marks  of  the  Absurd  Geometry  &c.  of  John  Wallis.   London. 

1660  Examinatio  et  Emendatio  Mathematicae  Hodiernae.    Lon- 

don. 

1661  Dialogus  Physicus,  sive  de  Natura  Aeris.    London. 
De  Duplicatione  Gubi.    London. 

1662  Problemata  Physica.     London. 

Gonsiderations  on  the  Reputation  &c.  of  Thomas  Hobbes. 

London. 


xxxvi        LIST  OF  THE  WRITINGS  OF  HOBBES 

1666    De  Principiis  et  Ratiocinatione  Geotnetrarum.    London. 

1668    Appendix  ad  Leviathan.    Amsterdam. 

,S    Quadratum   Circuli.  Cubatio   Sphaerse.   duphcafo  Cubi. 

London. 
Letter  to  the  Right  Honourable -Edward  Howard. 

1671  Rosetum  Geometricum.    London.  .     a^^ 
Three  Papers  Presented  to  the  Royal  Society.    London. 

1672  PrincipiaetProblemata  aliquot  Geometrica.    London. 
Lux  Mathematica.    London. 

1673  The  Travels  of  Ulysses.    London. 

,674    Epistola  ad  Anthony  21  Wood.    London. 

,67«;    The  Iliads  and  Odysses  of  Homer.    London. 

1676    Letter  to  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  on  the  Controversy  about 

Liberty  and  Necessity.    London. 
1678    Decameron  Physiologicum.    London. 
,679    T.  Hobbes  Malmesbunensis  Vita  Carmme  Expressa.    Lon- 

don. 

PUBLISHED  POSTHUMOUSLY 

1680  An  Historical  Narration  concerning  Heresy. 
Behemoth:  the  History  of  the  Causes  of  the  Civil  Wars  of 

England.  London.  An  edition  from  a  defective  manu- 
script  was  published  without  the  authority  of  Hobbes 
in  1679  shortly  before  his  death. 

1681  T.  Hobbes  Malmesburiensis  Vita.    London. 
The  Whole  Art  of  Rhetoric.    London. 
The  Art  of  Rhetoric.    London. 

The  Art  of  Sophistry.    London. 

A  Dialogue  between  a  Philosopher  and  a  Student  of  the 
Common  Laws  of  England.    London. 
,682    Answer  to  Bishop  Bramhall's  Book  called  "The  Catching  of 
Leviathan."    London. 
Seven  Philosophical  Problems.    London. 
i««    Historia  Ecclesiastica.    London.  ,,  .    tr     c 

kTewSrs  have  been  published  by  Molesworth  m  Vol  V  of 
the  Latin  Works  and  Vol.  VII  of  the  English  Works. 


SELECTIONS  FROM 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 


THE  FIRST  SECTION 


CONCERNING  BODY. 


PART  FIRST. 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


it 


i 


']■ 


PART  FIRST 


COMPUTATION  OR  LOGIC 


CHAPTER  I. 

OF   PHILOSOPHY. 

1.  The  Introduction.-2.  The  Definition  of  Philosophy  explained. 
—3.  Ratiocination  of  the  Mind.-4.  Properties,  what  they  are. 
—5.  How  Properties  are  known  by  Generation,  and  contranly. 
-4.  The  Scope  of  Philosophy.-?.  The  Utility  of  it.-«.  The 
Subject.— 9.  The  Parts  of  it.— lo.  The  Epilogue. 

Philosophy  seems  to  me  to  be  amongst  men  now,  in 
the  same  manner  as  cDoi  and  wine  are  said  to  have  been 
in  the  world  in  ancient  time.  For  from  the  beginning  there 
were  vines  and  ears  of  com  growing  here  and  there  m 
the  fields ;  but  no  care  was  taken  for  the  planting  and 
sowing  of  them.  Men  lived  therefore  upon  acorns ;  or  if 
any  were  so  bold  as  to  venture  upon  the  eating  of  those 
unknown  and  doubtful  fruits,  they  did  it  with  danger  of 
their  health.  In  like  manner,  every  man  brought  Philes- 
ophy,  ttotis.  Natural  Reason,  into  the  world  with  him; 
fofall  men  can  reason  to  some  degree,  and  concerning 
some  things :  but  where  there  is  need  of  a  long  series  of 
reasons,  there  most  men  wander  out  of  the  way,  and  faU 


t 


t 


Tr'Jt<vC 


yy 


/ 


,  ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

I  into  error  fOTjmit_ofjney}od,  as  it  were  for  want  of 
\  sowing  and  planting,  that  is,  of  improving  their  reason. 

I  And  from  hence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  they  who  content 
themselves  with  daily  experience,  which  may  be  likened 
to  feeding  upon  acorns,  and  either  reject,  or  not  much 
regard  philosophy,  are  commonly  esteemed,  and  are,  in- 
deed  men  of  sounder  judgment  than  those  who,  from 
opinions,  though  not  vulgar,  yet  full  of  uncertainty,  and 
carelessly  received,  do  nothing  but  dispute  and  wrangle, 
like  men  that^renot  well  inAdrjirits.    I  confess,  in- 
d^edTthS^at  part  of  philosophy  by  which  magnitudes 
and  figures  are  computed,  is  highly  improved.    But  be- 
cause I  have  not  observed  the  like  advancement  m  the 
other  ports  of  it,  my  purpose  is,  as  far  forth  as  I  am 
able,  to  lay  open  the  few  and  firstElements  of  Philos- 
ophy in  general,  as  so  many  seeds  from  which  pure  and 
true  Philosophy  may  hereafter  spring  up  by  little  and 

little.  .    .  .      . 

I  am  not  ignorant  how  hard  a  thing  it  is  to  weed  out 
of  men's  minds  such  inveterate  opinions  as  have  taken 
root  there,  and  been  confirmed  in  them  by  the  author- 
ity of  most  eloquent  writers ;  especially  seeing  true  (that 
is,  accurate)  Philosophy  professedly  rejects  not  only  the 
paint  and  false  colours  of  language,  but  even  the  very 
ornaments  and  graces  of  the  same ;  and  the  first  grounds 
of  all  science  are  not  only  not  beautiful,  but  poor,  and, 
and,  in  appearance,  deformed,  f  Nevertheless,  there  being 
certainly  some  men,  though  but  few,  who  are  delighted 
\  with  truth  and  strength  of  reason  in  all  things,  I  thought 
\  I  might  do  well  to  take  this  pains  for  the  sake  even  of 
Lthose  few.    I  proceed  therefore  to  the  matter,  and  take 
my  beginning  from  the  very  definition  of  philosophy, 

which  is  this. 

3.    Philosophy  xs  such  knowledge  of  effects  or  ap- 


« 


4 


1 


OF  PHILOSOPHY  3 

pearances,  as  w  acquire  by  true  ratiocination  from  the 
knowledge  we  have  first  of  their  causes  or  generation: 
And  again,  of  such  causes  or  generations  as  may  be  from 

knowing  first  their  effects}  .  -,  .  . 

For  the  better  understanding  of  which  definition,  we    __ 
must  consider,  first,  that  although_Sense  .and  Memory  ^^  ^^.y    ^ 
of  things,  which  are  common  to  man  and  all  living  crea-  ^^    v^^_. 
tures,  be  knowledge,  yet  because  they  are  given  us  im-  "Z/ 

mediately  by  nature,  and  not  gotten  by  ratioanation, 
they  are  notphilpsophy. 

Secondly,  seeing  ExperienceJsji^hing_butmeniory ; 
and  Prudence,  or  prospect  into  the  future  time,  nothing  ^j 

but  expectation  of  such  things  as  we  have  already  had 
experience  of.  Prudence  also  is  not  to  be  esteemed  phil- 
osophy.'        aj^f^^a^Ci^  ^  ^— ^. 

.  Compare  below  Ch.  VI  Sec.  '.^1^0  the  following  from  CIl 
XXV  of  the  Elements  of  Philosophy  (M.  I.  387-389)-  ine" 
axe  therefore,  wo  methyls  of  philosophy;  on<t,iromihee^^ 
eration  of  things  to  their  possible  effects;  and  the  other,  from 
the  r  effects  or  appearances  to  some  possible  generation  of  tte. 

l??geVrated.    The  principles,  ther-ffoFSTS^n  whicFnKS  p^^^^      /   r^  ^A 
-Tet^ends,  are  not  such  as  we  ourselves  make  and  P;^°"""  ™  '^  ,^ 
o«.P«l  terms    as  definitions;  tut  such,  as  being  placed  m  tne  -J*/^"*, 
S  thfm'^iv:!  by  the  Author  of  .Nat^e.  "«  by  us  °b^^^^^^^^^     c^fO-CT  | 

in  them  •  and  we  make  use  of  them  m  smgle  and  particular,  ngs  J 
JTrnv^al  propositions.  Nor  do  tl^ey  impose  upon  «s  any  necessi^  U 
-^hSSfututing  theorems ;  their  use  being  ^T^^y^^'^^'^^^^^.^J^f^ 
such  general  propositions  as  have  been  already  demonstrated,  to 
sho^  us  the  possibility  of  some  production  or  gf^f^^tion  ^^^^fi 
thw^fore  the  science,  which  is  here  taught  hath  its  pnncip^s 
K  apVarances  of  nature,  and  endeth  in  the  attaining  of  some 
knowledee  of  natural  causes,  I  have  given  to  this  part  inc 
Sle  of  PHYSicsVor  the  Phenomena  of  Nature.  Now  such  things 
Ifappear  o??re  shown  to  us  by  nature,  we  call  phenomena  or 
appearances."    Compare  also  the  Levtathan,  Ch.  IX. 

«  Compare  the  following  from  the  f-^^'*?;?; J^A,  "^l^re 
-By  whidi  definitioii  {of  philosophy]  It  is  evident,  that  we  are 


,Ji^t^ 


\ 


-Xl^* 


L/?--7*^^^^ 


-*^ 


lU^n 


4  ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

By  RATIOCINATION,  I  mean  computation.     Now  to 

compute,  is  either  to  collect  the  sum  of  many  things  that 

<*     w  arc  added  together,  or  to  know  what  remains  when  one 

tjiing  is  taken  out  of  another.    Ratiocination,  therefore, 

is  the  same  with  addition  and  suhstraction ;  and  if  any 

man  add  multiplication  and  division,  I  will  not  be  against 

it,  seeing  multiplication  is  nothing  but  addition  of  equals 

one  to  another,  and  division  notliing  but  a  suhstraction  of 

equals  one  from  another,  as  often  as  is  possible.    So  that 

/  all  ratiocination  is  comprehended  in  these  two  operations 

[  of  the  mind,  addition  and  suhstraction. 

3.  But  how  by  the  ratiocination  of  our  mind,  we 
add  and  substract  in  our  silent  thoughts,  without  the  use 
of  words,  it  will  be  necessary  for  me  to  make  intelligible 
by  an  example  or  two.  If  therefore  a  man  see  something 
I  afar  off  and  obscurely,  although  no  appellation  had  yet 
been  given  to  anything,  he  will,  notwithstanding,  have 
WT  the  same  idea  of  tiiat  thing  for  which  now,  by  impos- 

ing a  name  on  it,  we  call  it  body,  /Again,  when,  by  com- 
ing nearer,  he  sees  the  same  thing  thus  and  thus,  now  in 
one  place  and  now  in  another,  he  will  have  a  new  idea 
thereof,  namely,  that  for  which  we  mow  call  such  a  thing 
%   animated.  Thirdly,  when  standing  nearer,  he  perceives  the 


/i 


not  to  account  as  any  part  thereof,  that  original  knowledge  called 
experience,  in  which  consisteth  prudence:  because  it  is  not  at- 
tained by  reasoning,  but  found  as  well  in  brute  beasts,  as  in 
man ;  and  is  but  a  memory  of  successions  of  events  in  times  past, 
wherein  the  omission  of  every  little  circumstance  altering  the 
effect,  frustrateth  the  expectation  of  the  most  prudent:  whereas 
nothing  is  produced  by  reasoning  aright,  but  general,  eternal,  and 
immutable  truth.  Nor  are  we  therefore  to  give  that  name  to  any 
false  conclusions:  for  he  that  reasoneth  aright  in  words  he  un- 
derstandeth,  can  never  conclude  an  error:  Nor  to  that  which 
any  man  knows  by  supernatural  revelation;  because  it  is  not  ac- 
quired by  reasoning :  Nor  that  which  is  gotten  by  reasoning  from 
the  authority  of  books;  because  it  is  not  by  reasoning  from  the 
cause  to  the  effect,  nor  from  the  effect  to  the  cause;  and  is  not 
knowledge  but  faith." 


t 


OF  PHILOSOPHY  S 

figure.  hea«  the  voice,  and  sees  other  things  which  are 
signs  of  a  rational  mind,  he  has  a  third  idea,  though  it 
have  yet  no  appellation,  namely,  that  for  which  we  now    ^ 
call  anything  rational.    Lastly,  when,  by  lookmg  fully 
and  distinctly  upon  it.  he  conceives  all  that  he  has  seen  as 
one  thing,  the  idea  hejias^now  is_compounded  oL.his 
former  ideas.  whkhiFe  put  together  in  the  mmd  m  the 
sameOTd^FhT  which  these  three  single  names,  body,  an- 
imated, rational,  are  in  speech  compounded  into  this  one 
name,  body-animated-rational,  or  man.    In  like  manner, 
of  the  several  conceptions  of  four  sides,  equality  of  sides, 
and  right  angles,  is  compounded  the  conception  of  a 
square.   For  the  mind  may  conceive  a  figure  of  four  sides 
without  any  conception  of  their  equality,  and  of  that 
equality  without  conceiving  a  right  angle ;  and  may  join 
together  all  these  single  conceptions  into  one  conception 
or  one  idea  of  a  square.    And  thus  we  see  how  the  con-  ^^^  ^  ^  ^ 
ceptions  of  the  mind  are  compounded.    Again,  whoso- 
ever  sees  a  man  standing  near  him,  conceives  the  whole  •  t^^^ 
idea  of  that  man ;  and  if,  as  he  goes  away,  he  follow  him    ^-/    /T" 
with  his  eyes  only,  he  will  lose  the  idea  of  those  things 
which  were  signs  of  his  being  rational,  whilst,  neverthe- 
less the  idea  of  a  body-animated  remains  still  before  his 
eyes  so  tiiat  the  idea  of  rational  is  substracted  from  the 
whole  idea  of  man,  that  is  to  say,   of  body-animated- 
rational,  and  there  remains  that  of  body-animated ;  and 
a  while  after,  at  a  greater  distance,  the  idea  of  animated 
will  be  lost,  and  that  of  body  only  will  remam;  so  that 
at  last,  when  nothing  at  all  can  be  seen,  the  whole  idea 
will  vanish  out  of  sight.    By  which  examples,  I  think, 
it  is  manifest  enough  what  is  the  internal  ratiocination  of 
the  mind  without  words. 

We  must  not  therefore  think  that  computation,  tiiat  ^ 
is.  ratiocination,  has  place  only  in  numbers,  as  if  man  | 


7% 


i  .\A, 


^^f\^ 


Xcf 


6  ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

were  distinguished  from  other  living  creatures  (which 
is  said  to  have  beer  the  opinion  of  Pythagoras)  by  noth- 
ing but  the  faculty  of  numbering;  for  magnitude,  body, 
motion,  time,  degrees  of  quality,  action,  conception,  pro- 
portion, speech  and  names  (in  which  all  the  kinds  of  phil- 
osophy consist)  are  capable  of  addition  and  substraction. 
Now  such  things  as  we  add  or  substract,  that  is,  which 
we  put  into  an  account,  we  are  said  to  consider,  in  Greek 
io7'tCeff»9ac,  in  which  language  also  ffuXXoYtU<T^ai  signifies 
to  compute,  reason,  or  reckon.^ 

4.  But  effects  and  the  appearances  of  things  to  sense, 
are  faculties  or  powers  of  bodies,  which  make  us  distin- 
guish  them  from  one  another;  that  is  to  say,  conceive 
one  body  to  be  equal  or  unequal,  like  or  unlike  to  another 
body;  as  in  the  example  above,  when  by  coming  near 
enough  to  any  body,  we  perceive  the  motion  and  going 
of  the  same,  we  distinguish  it  thereby  from  a  tree,  a  col- 
umn, and  other  fixed  bodies ;  and  so  that  motion  or  going 
is  the  property  thereof,  as  being  proper  to  living  crea- 
tures, and  a  faculty  by  which  they  make  us  distinguish 
them  from  other  bodies. 

5.  How  the  knowledge  of  any  effect  may  be  gotten 
from  the  knowledge  of  the  generation  tliereof,  may  easily 
be  understood  by  the  example  of  a  circle :  for  if  there  be 
set  before  us  a  plain  figure,  having,  as  near  as  may  be, 
the  figure  of  a  circle,  we  cannot  possibly  perceive  by 
sense  whether  it  be  a  true  circle  or  no ;  than  which,  never- 
theless, nothing  is  more  easy  to  be  known  to  him  that 
knows  first  the  generation  of  the  propounded  figure.  For 
let  it  be  known  that  the  figure  was  made  by  the  circum- 
duc^on  of  a  body  whereof  one  end  remained  unmoved. 


4 


r 


*  Compare  below  Ch.  IV,  and  the  Leviathan,  Ch.  V   and  VII, 
and  notes  on  the  latter. 


\t 


OF  PHILOSOPHY  ^ 

and  we  may  reason  thus;  a  body  carried  about,  retaining 

always  the  same  length,  applies  itself  first  to  one  rod.u. 

then  to  another,  to  a  third,  a  fourth,  and  successively  to 

all ;  and,  therefore,  the  same  length,  from  the  same  point, 

toucheth  the  circumference  in  every  part  thereof  which  is 

as  much  as  to  say,  as  all  the  radii  are  equal.    We  know, 

therefore,  that  from  such  generation  proceeds  a  figure, 

from  whose  one  middle  point  all  the  extreme  points  are  ^ 

reached  unto  by  equal  radii.    And  in  like  manner,  by^        /,, 

knowing  first  what  figure  is  set  before  us,  we  may  come  .^^  ,„_^ 

by  ratiocination  to  some  generation  of  the  same,  though^  ^^^  ^^i 

perhaps  not  that  by  which  it  was  made,  yet  that  by  which 

iTmight  have  been  made;  for  he  that  knows  that  a  circle 

has  the  property  above  declared,  will  easily  know  whether 

a  body  carried  about,  as  is  said,  will  generate  a  circle 

or  no.  ,    „l:l    L, 

6     The  end  or  scope  of  philosophy  is,  that  we  may\  r'  'J^ 
make  use  to  our  benefit  of  effects  formerly  seen;  or  that. J  ^^^W 
by  appli^o^TSfTodies  to  one  another,  we  may  produce  /» -/> 

the  like  effects  of  those  we  conceive  in  our  mind,  as  tar. 
forth  as  matter,  strength,  and  industry,  will  permit,  for 
the  commodity  of  human  life.  For  the  inward  glory  and 
triumph  of  mind  that  a  man  may  have  for  the  mastenng 
of  some  difficult  and  doubtful  matter,  or  for  the  discov- 
ery of  some  hidden  truth,  is  not  worth  so  much  pains  as 
the  study  Qf  Philosophy  requires;  nor  need  any  njan  care 
much  to  teach  another  what  he  knows  himself,  if  he  thit*  ^ 

that  will  be  the  only  benefit  of  his  labour.    The  e^f  ^,   /^yf 
knowledge  ispower;  and  the  use  of  theorems  (which,        ^^PT!: 
aiB^f^Jii^ans,  serve  for  the  finding  out  of  prop- 
erties) is  for  the  construction  of  problems;  and,  lasUy,  x 
the  scope  of  all  speculation  is  the  performmg  of  somey 
acticwi,  or  thing  to  be  done. 

7.    But  what  the  utility  of  philosophy  is,  espcaally 


L^\^n  v*^\ 


A.<#** 


•) 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


OF  PHILOSOPHY 


/ 


N 


J    - 


X 


of  natural  philosophy  and  geometry,  will  be  best  under- 
stood by  reckoning  up  the  chief  commodities  of  which 
mankind  is  capable,  and  by  comparing  the  manner  of  life 
of  such  as  enjoy  them,  with  that  of  others  which  want 
^  the  same.  /  Now,  the  greatest  commodities  of  mankind 
are  the  arts;  namely,  of  measuring  matter  and  motion; 
of  moving  ponderous  bodies ;  of  architecture ;  of  naviga- 
tion ;  of  making  instruments  for  all  uses ;  of  calculating 
the  celestial  motions,  the  aspects  of  the  stars,  and  the 
parts  of  tim€ ;  of  geography,  &c.    By  which  sciences,  how 
great  benefits  men  receive  is  more  easily  understood  than 
»   expressed.    These  benefits  are  enjoyed  by  almost  all  the 
people  of  Europe,  by  most  of  those  of  Asia,  and  by  some 
of  Africa :  but  the  Americans,  and  they  that  live  near  the 
Poles,  do  totally  want  them.     But  why?     Have  they 
sharper  wits  than  these?    Have  not  all  men  one  kind  of 
soul,  and  the  same  faculties  of  mind  ?    What,  then,  makes 
this  difference,  except    philosophy?     Philosojhy,    there- 
forejsjhe  cause  of  aH  these  benefits.  //But  the  iitility  of 
•  moral  and  civil  philosophy  is  to  be  estimated,  not  so  much 
by  the  commodities  we  have  by  knowing  these  sciences, 
as  by  the  calamities  we  receive  from  not  knowing  them. 
(  Now,  all  such  calamities  as  may  be  avoided  by  human  in- 
I  dustry,  arise  from  war,  but  chiefly  from  civil  war;  for 
from  this  proceed  slaughter,  solitude,  and  the  want  of 
all  things.    But  the  cause  of  war  is  not  that  men  are  will- 
ing to  have  it;  for  the  will  has  nothing  for  object  but 
good,  at  least  that  which  seemeth  good.    Nor  is  it  from 
'  this,  that  men  know  not  that  the  effects  of  war  are  evil ; 
for  who  is  there  that  thinks  not  poverty  and  loss  of  life  to 
be  great  evils?  The  cause,  therefore,  of  civil  war  is,  that 
'men  know  not  the  causes  neither  of  war  nor  peace,  there 
-being  but  few  in  the  world  that  have  learned  those  duties 
^which  unite  and  keep  men  in  peace,  that  is  to  say,  that 


T 


have  learned  the  rules  of  civil  life  sufficiently.  Now,  the 
knowledge  of  these  rules  is  moral  philosophy.  But  why 
have  they  not  learned  them,  unless  for  this  reason,  that 
none  hitherto  have  taught  them  in  a  clear  and  exact 
method?  For  what  shall  we  say?  (Could  the  ancient 
masters  of  Greece,  Egypt,  Rome,  and  others,  persuade 
the  unskilful  multitude  to  their  innumerable  opinions 
concerning  the  nature  of  their  gods,  which  they  them- 
selves knew  not  whether  they  were  true  or  false,  and 
which  were  indeed  manifestly  false  and  absurd;  and 
could  they  not  persuade  the  same  multitude  to  civil  duty, 
if  they  themselves  had  imderstood  it  ?  Or  shall  those  few 
writings  of  geometricians  which  are  extant,  be  thought 
sufficient  for  the  taking  away  of  all  controversy  in  the 
matters  they  treat  of,  and  shall  those  innumerable  and 
huge  volumes  of  ethics  be  thought  unsufficient,  if  what 
they  teach  had  been  certain  and  well  demonstrated? 
What,  then,  can  be  imagined  to  be  the  cause  that  the 
writings  of  those  men  have  increased  science,  and  the 
writings  of  these  have  increased  nothing  but  words,  sav- 
ing that  the  former  were  written  by  men  that 
knew,  and  the  latter  by  such  as  knew  not,  the 
doctrine  they  taught  only  for  ostentation  of  their 
wit  and  eloquence?  Nevertheless,  I  deny  not  but  the 
reading  of  some  such  books  is  very  delightful ;  for  they 
are  most  eloquently  written,  and  contain  many  clear, 
wholesome  and  choice  sentences,  which  yet  are  not  uni- 
versally true,  though  by  them  universally  pronounced. 
From  whence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  the  circumstances 
of  tames,  places,  and  persons  being  changed,  they  are 
no  less  frequently  made  use  of  to  confirm  wicked  men 
in  their  purposes,  than  to  make  them  understand  the  pre- 
cepts of  civil  duties.  ( Now  that  which  is  chiefly  wanting 
in  them,  is  a  true  and  certain  rule  of  our  actions,  by  which 


ETXMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


OF  PHILOSOPHY 


U 


I    4 


•i^r>. 


"jut    "TvwOi*  ^ 


i 


^4  Umc 


ft 

/ 


wc  might  know  whether  that  we  undertake  be  just  or  un- 
just. For  it  is  to  no  purpose  to  be  bidden  in  every  thing 
to  do  right,  before  there  be  a  certain  rule  and  measure 
1  of  right  established,  which  no  man  hitherto  hath  estab- 
lished. Seeing,  therefore,  from  the  not  knowing  of  civil 
duties,  that  is,  from  the  want  of  moral  science,  proceed 
civil  wars,  and  the  greatest  calamities  of  mankind,  we 
may  very  well  attribute  to  such  science  the  production 
of  the  contrary  commodities.  And  thus  much  is  suffi- 
cient, to  say  nothing  of  the  praises  and  other  contentment 
proceeding  from  philosophy,  to  let  you  see  the  utility  of 
the  same  in  every  kind  thereof. 

8.  The  subject  of  Philosophy,  or  the  matter  it  treats 
of,  is  every  body  of  which  we  can  conceive  any  gener- 
ation,  and  which  we  may,  by  any  consideration  thereof, 
compare  with  other  bodies,  or  which  is  capable  of  compo- 
sition and  resolution;  that  is  to  say, (every  body  of  whose 
generation  or  properties  we  can  have  any  knowledge. 
And  this  may  be  deduced  from  the  definition  of  philos- 
ophy, whose  profession  it  is  to  search  out  the  proper- 
ties of  bodiej^  from  their  generation,  or  their  genera- 
tion from  their  properties;  andT^herefore,  where  there 
lis  no  generation  or  property,  there  is  no  philosophy. 
Therefore  it  excludes  Theology,  I  mean  the  doctrine  of 
God,  eternal,  ingenerable,  incomprehensible,  and  in 
whom  there  is  nothing  neither  to  divide  nor  compound, 
nor  any  generation  to  be  conceived. 

It  excludes  the  doctrine  of  angels,  and  all  such  things 
as  are  thought  to  be  neither  bodies  nor  properties  of 
bodies;  there  being  in  them  no  place  neither  for  com- 
position nor  division,  nor  any  capacity  of  more  and  less, 
that  is  to  say,  no  place  for  ratiocination. 

It  excludes  history,  as  well  natural  as  political, 
though  most  useful  (nay  necessary)  to  philosophy;  be- 


i 


cause  such  knowledge  is  but  experience^_orjauthority, 
and  not  ratiocination. 

It  excludes  all  such  knowledge  as  is  acquired  by 
Divine  inspiration,  or  revelation,  as  not  derived  to  us  by 
reason,  but  by  Divine  grace  in  an  instant,  and,  as  it  were, 
by  some  sense  supernatural. 

It  excludes  not  only  all  doctrines  which  are  false, 
but  such  also  as  are  not  well-grounded;  for  whatsoever 
we  know  by  right  ratiocination,  can  neither  be  false  nor 
doubtful;  and,  therefore,  astrology,  as  it  is  now  held 
forth,  and  all  such  divinations  rather  than  sciences,  are 
excluded. 

Lastly,  the  doctrine  of  God's  worship  is  excluded 
from  philosophy,  as  being  not  to  be  known  by  natural 
reason,  but  by  the  authority  of  the  Church ;  and  as  being 
the  object  of  faith,  and  not  of  knowledge. 

9.  The  principal  parts  of  philosophy  are  two.  For 
two_chief^Jdnds_oL bodies,  and  very  different  from  one 
another,  offer  themselves  to  such  as  search  after  their 
generation  and  properties;  one  whereof  being  the  work 
of  nature,  is  called  a  naturaLJbody,  the  other  is  called  a 
commonwealth^2ji6.  is  made  by  the  wills  and  agreement 
of  men.  And  from  these  spring  the  two  parts  of  phil- 
osophy, called  natural  and  civxL  But  seeing  that,  for  the 
knowledge  of  the  properties  of  a  commonwealth,  it  is 
necessary  first  to  know  the  dispositions,  affections,  and 
manners  of  men,  civil  philosophy  is  again  commonly  divid- 
ed into  two  parts,  whereof  one,  which  treats  of  men's  dis- 
positions and  manners,  is  called  ethics;  and  the  other, 
which  takes  cognizance  of  their  civil  duties,  is  called  poli- 
tics, or  simply  civil  philosophy.  In  the  first  place,  therefore 
(after  I  have  set  down  such  premises  as  appertain  to  the 
nature  of  philosophy  in  general),  I  will  discourse  of 
bodies  natural;  in  the  second,  of  the  dispositions  and  man- 


^v..^:^ 


in 


-Zl 


jiu^i^ 


T 


\ 


n<»T«^a( 


(3^ 


? 


9 


m  ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

tiers  of  men;  and  in  the  third,  of  the  civil  duties  of  sub- 
jects. * 

lo.    To  conclude ;  seeing  there  may  be  many  who  will 
not  like  this  my  definition  of  philosophy,  and  will  say,  that, 
from  the  liberty  which  a  man  may  take  of  so  defining  as 
seems  best  to  himself,  he  may  conclude  any  thing  from 
any  thing  (though  I  think  it  no  hard  matter  to  demon- 
strate that  this  definition  of  mine  agrees  with  the  sense  of 
all  men)  ;  yet,  lest  in  this  point  there  should  be  any  cause 
of  dispute  betwixt  me  and  them,  I  here  undertake  no/ 
more  than  to  deliver  the  elements  of  that  science  by  which  I 
the  effects  of  anything  may  be  found  out  from  the  knowril 
generation  of  the  same,  or  contrarily,  the  generationi 
from  the  effects ;  to  the  end  that  they  who  search  aftefl 
other  philosophy,  may  be  admonished  to  seek  it  from 
other  principles. 

*  Compare  the  Leviathan,  Ch.  IX,  and  the  following  from  the 
Philosophical  Rudiments,  "Preface  to  the  Reader/'  (M.  II,  xix- 
XX ).  "I  was  studying  philosophy  for  my  mind  sake,  and  I 
had  gathered  together  its  first  elements  in  all  kinds ;  and  having 
digested  them  into  three  sections  by  degrees,  I  thought  to  have 
written  them,  so  as  in  the  first  I  would  have  treated  of  body  and 
its  general  properties;  in  the  second  of  man  and  his  special  fac- 
ulties and  affections;  in  the  third,  of  civil  government  and  the 
duties  of  subjects.  Wherefore  the  first  section  would  have  con- 
tained the  first  philosophy,  and  certain  elements  of  physic;  in 
it  we  would  have  considered  the  reasons  of  time,  place,  cause, 
power,  relation,  proportion,  quantity,  figure,  and  motion.  In  the 
second,  we  would  have  been  conversant  about  imagination,  mem- 
ory, intellect,  ratiocination,  appetite,  will,  good  and  evil,  honest 
and  dishonest,  and  the  like.  What  this  last  section  handles,  I 
have  now  already  showed  you.  Whilst  I  contrive,  order,  pen- 
sively and  slowly  compose  these  matters;  (for  I  only  do  reason, 
I  dispute  not)  ;  it  so  happened  in  the  interim,  that  my  country, 
some  few  years  before  the  civil  wars  did  rage,  was  boiling  hot 
with  questions  concerning  the  rights  of  dominion  and  the  obedi- 
ence due  from  subjects,  the  true  forerunners  of  an  approaching 
war;  and  was  the  cause  which,  all  those  other  matters  deferred, 
ripened  and  plucked  from  me  this  third  part.  Therefore  it  happens, 
that  what  was  last  in  order,  is  yet  come  forth  first  in  time." 
Compare  also  below  Ch.  VI,  Sec.  6-7.  Note  that  the  Latin  titles 
of  Hobbes'  chief  philosophical  writings  are  De  Corpore,  De 
Ho  mine,  and  D^  Cive. 


V 


4. 


X 


"^WaM 


0 


CHAPTER  II. 

OF   NAMES. 

I.  The  necessity  of  sensible  Moniments  or  Marks  for  the  help 
of  Memory:  a  Mark  defined. — 2.  The  necessity  of  Marks  for 
the  signification  of  the  cenceptions  of  the  Mind. — ^3.  Names 
supply  both  those  necessities. — ^4.  The  Definition  of  a  Name. — 
^.  Names  are  Signs  not  of  Things,  but  of  our  Cogitations. — 
6.  What  it  is  we  give  Names  to. — [7.  Names  Positive  and 
Negative.— 8.  Contradictory  Names. — 9.  A  Common  Name. — 
10.  Names  of  the  First  and  Second  Intention. — 11.  Universal, 
Particular,  Individual,  and  Indefinite  Names. — 12.  Names  Uni- 
vocal  and  Equivocal. — 13.  Absolute  and  Relative  Names. — 
14.  Simple  and  Compounded  Names. — 15.  A  Predicament  de- 
scribed.— 16.  Some  things  to  be  noted  concerning  Predica- 
ments.] 

I.    How  unconstant  and  fading  men's  thoughts  are,  and  fluJ-  ^  4h 
how  much  the  recovery  of  them  depends  upon  chance,  (' 

there  is  none  but  knows  by  infallible  experience  in  him- 
self. For  no  man  is  able  to  remember  quantities  without 
sensible  and  present  measures,  nor  colors  without  sensi- 
ble and  present  patterns,  nor  number  without  the  names 
of  numbers  disposed  in  order  and  learned  by  heart.  So 
that  whatsoever  a  man  has  put  together  in  his  mind  by 
ratiocination  without  such  helps,  will  presently  slip  from 
him,  and  not  be  revocable  but  by  beginning  his  ratiocin- 
ation anew.  From  which  it  follows,  that,  for  the  acquir- 
ing of  philosophy,  some  sensible  moniments  are  necessary, 
by  which  our  past  thoughts  may  be  not  only  reduced,  but 
also  registered  every  one  in  its  own  order.  \  These  moni- 
ments I  call  MARKS,  namely,  sensible  things  taken  at 
pleasure,  that,  by  the  sense  of  them,  such  thoughts  may 
be  recalled  to  cur  mind  as  are  like  those  thoughts  for 
which  we  took  ^^^xiTtfji-^  .yf^t-^^J^- 


11^1 


<-s. 


TK 


u 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


OF  NAMES 


15 


L 


2.     Again,  though  some  one  man,  of  how  excellent  a 
,        wit  soever,  should  spend  all  his  time  partly  in  reasoning, 
'f^..r..^:i^iL,      and  partly  in  inventing  marks  for  the  help  of  his  mem- 
Tv       W-L).   ory,  and  advancing  himself  in  learning ;  who  sees  not  that 
^H  """^^^   the  benefit  he  reaps  to  himself  will  not  be  much,  and  to 
others  none  at  all?    For  unless  he  communicate  his  notes 
with  others,  his  science  will  perish  with  him.    But  if  the 
same  notes  be  made  common  to  many,  and  so  one  man's 
inventions  be  taught  to  others,  sciences  will  thereby  be  in- 
creased to  the  general  good  of  mankind.  ^It  is  therefore 
I  necessary,  for  the  acquiring  of  philosophy,  that  there  be 
I  certain  si^s,  by  which  what  one  man  finds  out  may  be 
[manifested  and  made  known  to  others.     Now,   those 
^things  we  call  signs  are  the  antecedents  of  their  conse- 
quents, and  the  consequents  of  their  antecedents,  as  often 
as  zvc  observe  them  to  go   before  or  follow  after  in 
the  same  manner.     For  example,  a  thick  cloud  is  a  sign 
of  rain  to  follow,  and  rain  a  sign  that  a  cloud  has  gone 
before,  for  this  reason  only,  that  we  seldom  see  clouds 
without  the  consequence  of  rain,  nor  rain  at  any  time  but 
when  a  cloud  has  gone  before.    And  of  signs,  some  are 
natural,  whereof  I  have  already  given  an  example,  others 
are  arbitrary,  namely,  those  we  make  choice  of  at  our  own 
pleasure,  as  a  bush  hung  up,  signifies  that  wine  is  to  be 
sold  there ;  a  stone  set  in  the  ground  signifies  the  bound 
of  a  field ;  and  words  so  and  so  connected,  signify  the  cog- 
itations   and    motions    of    our    mind.*     The  difference. 


)Wc 


'      J 


*  Compare  the  following  from  Philosophical  Rudiments.  (M. 
II,  219-220).  "There  are  two  kinds  of  signs;  the  one  natural; 
the  other  done  upon  agreement,  or  by  express  or  tacit  composi- 
tion. Now  because  in  every  language  the  use  of  words  and 
names  come  by  appointment,  it  may  also  by  appointment  be  al- 
tered; for  that  which  depends  on  and  derives  its  force  from  the 
will  of  men,  can  by  the  will  of  the  same  men  agreeing  be  changed 
again  or  abolished.     Such  names  therefore  as  are  attributed  to 


t 

T 


if 


T 


therefore,  betwixt  marks  and  signs  is  this,  that  we  make 
those  for  our  own  use,  but  these  for  the  use  of  others. 

3.  Words  so  connected  as  that  they  become  signs  of 
oiirjhoughts,  are  called  speech,  of  which  every  part  is  a 
name.  But  seeing  (as  is  said)  both  marks  and 
signs  are  necessary  for  the  acquiring  of  philosophy, 
(marks  by  which  we  may  remember  our  own  thoughts, 
and  signs  by  which  we  may  make  our  thoughts  known  to 
others),  names  do  both  these  offices;  but  they  serve  for 
marks  before  they  be  used  as  signs.  For  though  a  man 
were  alone  in  the  world,  they  would  be  useful  to  him  in 
helping  him  to  remember;  but  to  teach  others,  (unless 
there  were  some  others  to  be  taught)  of  no  use  at  all. 
Again,  names,  though  standing  singly  by  themselves,  are 
marks,  because  they  serve  to  recall  our  own  thoughts  to 
mind ;  but  they  cannot  be  signs,  otherwise  than  by  being 


;-; 


i4/»*'>4^~. 


God  by  the  appointment  of  men,  can  by  the  same  appointment 
be  taken  away.    Now  what  can  be  done  by  the  appointment  of 
men,  that  the  city  may  do.   flhe  city  therefore  by  right,  that  is 
to  say,  they  who  have  the  pOwer  of  the  whole  city,  shall  judge 
what  names  or  appellations  are  more,  what  less  honorable  for 
God ;  that  is  to  say,  what  doctrines  are  to  be  held  and  professed 
concerning  the  nature  of  God  and  his  operations.     Now  actions  I 
do  signify  not  by  men's  appointment,  but  naturally;  even  as  the 
effects  are  signs  of  their  causes.     Whereof  some  are  always  ' 
signs  of  scorn  to  them  before  whom  they  are  committed;  as 
those  whereby  the  body's  uncleanness  is  discovered,  and  what- 
soever men  are  ashamed  to  do  before  those   whom  they  re- 
spect.   Others  are  always  signs  of  honor,  as  to  draw  near  and 
discourse  decently  and  humbly,  to  give  way  or  to  yield  in -any 
matter  of  private  benefit.     In  these  actions  the  city  can  alter 
nothing.    But  there  are  infinite  others,  which,  as  much  as  belongs 
to  honour  or  reproach,  are  indifferent.    Now  these,  by  the  insti- 
tution of  the  city,  may  both  be  made  signs  of  honour,  and  being 
made  so,  do  in  very  deed  become  so.  (  From  whence  we  may   / 
understand,  that  we  must  obey  the  city  in  whatsoever  it  shall    ^, 
command  to  be  used  for  a  sign  of  honouring  God,  that  is  to  say,    / 
for  worship;  provided  it  can  be  instituted  for  a  sign  of  honour;   I 
because  that  is  a  sign  of  honour,  which  by  the  city's  command  is   / 
used  for  such." 


79^ 


1^ 


1 


1(  ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

disposed  and  ordered  in  speech  as  parts  of  the  same.  For 
example,  a  man  may  begin  with  a  word,  whereby  the 
hearer  may  frame  an  idea  of  something  in  his  mind, 
which,  nevertheless,  he  cannot  conceive  to  be  the  idea 
which  was  in  the  mind  of  him  that  spake,  but  that  he 
would  say  something  which  began  with  that  word,  though 
perhaps  not  as  by  itself,  but  as  part  of  another  word. 
So  that  the  nature  of  a  name  consists  principally  in  this, 
\  that  it  is  a  mark  taken  for  memory's  sake ;  but  it  serves 
also  by  accident  to  signify  and  make  known  to  others 
what  we  remember  ourselves,  and,  therefore,  I  will  define 
it  thus : 

4.  A  NAME  is  a  word  taken  at  pleasure  to  serve  for 
a  mark,  which  may  raise  in  our  mind  a  thought  like  to 
some  thought  we  had  before,  and  which  being  pronounced 
to  others,  may  be  to  them  a  sign  of  what  thought  the 
speaker  had,  or  had  not  before  in  his  mind.  And  it  is  for 
brevity's  sake  that  I  suppose  the  original  q4  names  to  be 
arbitrary,  judging  it  a  thing  that  may  be  assumed  as  un- 
questionable. For  considering  that  new  names  are  daily 
made,  and  old  ones  laid  aside ;  that  diverse  nations  use 
different  names,  and  how  impossible  it  is  either  to  ob- 
serve similitude,  or  make  any  comparison  betwixt  a  name 
and  a  thing,  how  can  any  man  imagine  that  the  names 
of  things  were  imposed  from  their  natures  ?  For  though 
some  names  of  living  creatures  and  other  things,  wliich 
our  first  parents  used,  were  taught  by  God  himself ;  yet 
they  were  by  him  arbitrarily  imposed,  and  afterwards, 
both  at  the  Tower  of  Babel,  and  since,  in  process  of 
time,  growing  everywhere  out  of  use,  are  quite  forgotten, 
and  in  their  room  have  succeeded  others,  invented  and 
received  by  men  at  pleasure.  Moreover,  whatsoever  the 
common  use  of  words  be,  yet  philosophers,  who  were  to 
teach  their  knowledge  to  others,  had  always  the  liberty. 


OF  NAMES 


IJF 


u 


fi^... 


'h 


T 


and  sometimes  they  both  had  and  will  have  a  necessity, 
of  taking  to  themselves  such  names  as  they  please  for  the 
^     signifying  of  their  meaning,  if  they  would  have  it  under- 
stood./Nor  had  mathematicians  need  to  ask  leave  of  any  / 
but  themselves  to  name  the  figures  they  invented,  para-  >  t 

bolas,  hyperboles,  cissoeides,  quadratices,  &c.  or  to  call) 
one  magnitude  A,  another  B.  Xa^^-u/  ^^^ 

5.  But  seeing  names  ordered  in  speech  (as  is  de-     ^*^'^V  . 
fined)  are  signs  of  our  conceptions^it  is  manifest  they  are  -^^:4::zf^^'^^ 
not_sign^  oi  the  things  then^elyes ;  for  that  the  sound  of  ^  ^  ^^/^ 
this  word  stone  should  be  the  sign  of  a  stone,  cannot  be  ,^  ^  „^,»^  j., 
understood  in  any  sense  but  this,  that  he  that  hears  it 

collects  that  he  that  pronounces  it  thinks  of  a  stone.  And, 
therefore,  that  disputation,  whether  names  signify  the 
matter  or  form,  or  something  compoimded  of  both,  and 
other  like  subtleties  of  the  metaphysics,  is  kept  up  by  err- 
ing men,  and  such  as  understand  not  the  words  they  dis- 
pute about. 

6.  Nor,  indeed,  is  it  at  all  necessary  that  every  name 
should  be  the  name  of  something.  For  as  these,  a  man,  a 
tree,  a  stone^  are  the  names  of  the  things  themselves,  so 

<jLt{>vw  the  images  of  a  man,  of  a  tree,  and  of  a  stone,  which  are 
represented  to  men  sleeping,  have  their  names  also, 
though  they  be  not  things,  but  only  fictions  and  phan- 
tasms of  things.  For  we  can  remember  these ;  and,  there- 
fore, it  is  no  less  necessary  that  they  have  names  to  mark 
and  signify  them,  than  the  things  themselves.  Also  this 
word  future  is  a  name,  but  no  future  thing  has  yet  any 
being,  nor  do  we  know  whether  that  which  we  call  future, 
shall  ever  have  a  being  or  no.  Nevertheless,  seeing  we 
use  in  our  mind  to  knit  together  things  past  with  those 
that  are  present,  the  name  future  serves  to  signify  such 
knitting  together.  Moreover,  that  which  neither  is,  nor 
has  been,  nor  ever  Shall,  or  ever  can  be,  has  a  name. 


T 


J 


A 


s/ 


r 


y^ 


18 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


namely,  that  which  neither  is  nor  has  been,  &c. ;  or  more 
briefly  this,  impossible.  To  conclude ;  this  word  nothing 
is  a  name,  which  yet  cannot  be  the  name  of  any  thing: 
for  when,  for  example,  we  substract  2  and  3  from  5,  and 
60  nothing  remaining,  we  would  call  that  substraction  to 
mind,  this  speech  nothing  re^nains,  and  in  it  the  word 
nothing  is  not  unuseful.  And  for  the  same  reason  we  say 
truly,  less  than  nothing  remains,  when  we  substract  more 
from  less;  for  the  mind  feigns  such  remains  as  these 
for  doctrine's  sake,  and  desires,  as  often  as  is  necessary, 
to  call  the  same  to  memor}\  /  But  seeing  every  name  has 
some  relation  to  that  which  is  named,  though  that  which 
we  name  be  not  always  a  thing  th^t  has  a  being  in  na- 
ture, yetjt  is  lawful  for  doctrine^s  sake  to  apply  the  word 
ihin^  to  whatsoever  we  name ;  as  if  it  were  all  one  wheth- 
er that  thing  be  truly  existent,  or  be  only  feigned.* 

SUPPLEMENT  FROM 

HUMAN  NATURE,  CHAPTER  V. 
I.    Seeing  the  succession  of  conceptions  in  the  mind  are 


«  ^ 


2  Compare  the  following  from  the  Leviathan  (M.  Ill,  673), 
"The  use  of  words,  is  to  register  to  ourselves,  and  make  mani- 
fest to  others  the  thoughts  and  conceptions  of  our  minds.     Of 
which  words,  some  are  the  names  of  the  things  conceived;  as 
'  the  names  of  all  sorts  of  bodies,  that  work  upon  the  senses,  and 
leave  an  impression  in  the"Tihagination.     Others  are  the  names 
yj     of  the  imaginations  themselves ;  that  is  to  say,  of  those  ideas,  or 
'^     mental  images  we  have  of  all  things  we  see,  or  remember.    And 
^    others   again   are   named   of   names;   or   of   different   sorts   of 
•^    speech :  as  universal,  plural,  singular,  are  the  names  of  names ; 
and  definition,  affirmation,  negation,  true,  false,  syllogism,  interro- 
gation, promise,  covenant,  are  the  names  of  certain  forms  of 
/  speech.    Others  serve  to  show  the  consequence^r  repugnance  of 
^Lft/U^a.  *f-  one  name  to  another;  as  when  one  saith,  a  man  ts  a  body,  he liT- 
fj  ten^Hh  fBaf  the  name  of  body  is  necessarily  consequent  to  the 

name  of  man;  as  being  but  several  names  of  the  same  thing, 
man;  which  consequence  is  signified  by  coupling  them  to- 
gether with  the  word  is" 


T? 


OF  NAMES 


19 


ii. 


caused,  as  hath  been  said  before,  by  the  succession  they 
had  one  to  another  when  they  were  produced  by  the  .  t 

senses,  and  that  there  is  no  conception  that  hath  not  been   '' ()ju^^<X4n/- i 
produced  immediately  before  or  after  innumerable  other*,  ^  o-^c^fc-Sv^ir^^ 
by  the  innumerable  acts  of  sense ;  it  must  needs  follow,  ^  - 

that  one  conception  followeth  not  another,  according  to 
our  election,  and  the  need  we  have  of  them,  but  as  it 
chaftceth  us  to  hear  or  see  such  things  as  shall  bring  them 
to  our  mind.    The  experience  we  have  hereof,  is  in  such  iU-^^i^  ou^^^ 
brute  beasts,  which,  having  the  providence  to  hide  the  jrf^^'^'^^  <^'»-^ 
remains  and  superfluity  of  their  meat,  do  nevertheless  ^/^*^-^-^''^  ^ 
want  the  remembrance  of  the  place  where  they  hid  it,  and  ^*v-h^'«^''*^-«* 
thereby  make  no  benefit  thereof  in  their  hunger :  but  mar,  h^Jh^yt'^*^^ 
^ho  in  this  point  beginneth  to  rank  himself  somewhat  ^'^^V^*^^^^ 
above  the  nature  of  beasts,  hath  observed  and  remem-  ^JZ^^JiTT  ^^ 
bered  the  cause  of  this  defect,  and  to  amend  the  same,  cl  fU-tS  cay*cJ> 
hath  imagined  or  devised  to  set  up  a  visible  or  other  sen-  ^^f^^^f»^:______ 

sible  mark,  the  which,  when  he  seeth  it  again,  may  bring  . 

to  his  mind  the  thought  he  had  when  he  set  it  up.  \  K\^  ^  ^7  '"^ 

mark  therefore  is  a  sensible  object  which  a  man  erectethy    ^"^     ^'^f 

voluntarily  to  himself,  to  the  end  to  remember  thereby  I  ^  >iWf 

somewhat  past,  when  the  same  is  objected  to  his  sense  t 

again:  as  men  that  have  passed  by  a  rock  at  sea,  set  upj  ^^Zl^^/ 

some  mark,  thereb^r  to  remember  their  former  danger,! 

and  avoid  it 

2.    In  the  number  of  these  marks,  are  those  human 
voices,  which  we  call  the  names  or  appellations  of  things 
sensible  by  the  ear,  by  which  we  recall  into    our    mind 
some  conceptions  of  the  things  to  which  we  gave  those 
names  or  appellations ;  as  the  appellation  white  bringeth 
to  remembrance  the  quality  of  such  objects  as  produce 
that  color  or  conception  in  us.     A  name  or  appellation  i 
therefore  is  t'he  voice  of  a  man  arbitrary,  imposed  for  a?" 
mark  to  bring  into  his  mind  some  conception  concerning  | 
the  thing  on  which  it  Is  imposed. 


i 


^I'f 


r-J 


I 


I* 


^\    t 


^./^fj(. 


* 


•    W*;: 


Ka^. 


JO  ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

3.  Things  named,  are  either  the  objects  themselves, 
as  a  man ;  or  the  conception  itself  that  we  have  of  man, 
as  shape  and  motion:  or  some  privation,  which  is  when 
we  conceive  that  there4§)  something  which  \ye  con- 
ceive, not-iffEim ;  as  when  we  conceive  he  is  not  just,  not 
finite,  we  give  him  the  name  of  unjust,  of  infinite,  which 
signify  privation  or  defect;  and  to  the  privations  them- 
selves we  give  the  names  of  injustice  and  infinitcness : 
so  that  here  be  two  sorts  of  names;  one  of  things,  in 
which  we  conceive  something ;  or  of  the  conceptions  themr 
selves,  which  are  called  positive:  the  other  of  things 
wherein  we  conceive  privation  or  defect,  and  those  names 
are  called  privative. 

4.  By  the  advantage  of  names  it  is  that  we  are  capa- 
ble of  science,  which  beasts,  for  want  of  them  are  not ; 
nor  man,  without  the  use  of  them :  for  as  a  beast  misseth 
not  one  or  two  out  of  many  her  young  ones,  for  want  of 
those  names  of  order,  one,  two,  and  three,  and  which  we 
call  number;  so  neither  would  a  man,  without  repeating 
orally  or  mentally  the  words  of  number,  know  how  many 
pieces  of  money  or  other  things  lie  before  him. 

5.  Seeing  there  be  many  conceptions  of  one  and 
the  same  thing,  and  for  every  conception  we  give  it  a 
several  name;  it  followeth  that  for  one  and  the  same 
thing,  we  have  many  names  or  attributes ;  as  to  the  same 
man  we  give  the  appellations  of  just,  valiant,  &c  for  di-  ) 
vers  virtues;  of  strong,  comely,  &c.  for  divers  qualities  | 
of     the     body.     And     again,     because     from     divers  • 
things  we  receive  like  conceptions,  many  things  must 
needs  have  the  same  appellation :  as  to  all  things  we  see, 
we  give  the  same  name  of  visible;  and  to  all  things  we  sec 
moveable,  we  give  the   appellation  of  moveable:   and 
those  names  we  give  to  many,  are  called  universal  to  them 
all;  as  the  name  of  man  to  every  particular  of  mankind: 


X' 


OF  NAMES 


9t 


\ 


p-4J. 


T 


.1 


♦ 


fuch  appellation  as  we  give  to  one  only  thing,  we  call  in- 
dividual, or  singularly;  as  Socrates,  and  other  proper 
names :  or,  by  circumlocution,  he  that  writ  the  Iliads,  for 
Homer. 

6.    The  universality  of  one  name  to  many  things,  hath   >         ^jU^^^j^ 
been  the  cause  that  men  think  the  things  are  themselves         ^ff>^^^^^ 
universal;  and  so  seriously  contend,  that  besides  Peter  a^  .t-A^c/  y 
and  John,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  men  that  are,  have  been,  cv>,  ,-yC.^  ^-C 
or  shall  be  in  the  worid,  there  is  yet  something  else  that  ^^^^^ 
we  call  man,  viz.  man  in  general,  deceiving  themselves, 
by  taking  the  universal,  or  general  appellation,  for  the 
thing  it  signifieth :  for  if  one  should  desire  the  painter  to 
make  him  the  picture  of  a  man,  which  is  as  much  as  to 
say,  of  a  man  in  general ;  he  meaneth  no  more,  but  that 
the  painter  should  choose  what  man  he  pleaseth  to  draw, 
which  must  needs  be  some  of  them  that  are,  or  have  been, 
or  may  be,  none  of  which  are  universal.    But  when  he 
would  have  him  to  draw  the  picture  of  the  king,  or  any 
particular  person,  he  limiteth  ihe  painter  to  that  one  per- 
son he  chooseth.  /It  is  plain  therefore,  that  there  is  noth- 
ing universal  but  names;  which  are  therefore  called  in- 
'^deiinite;  becausri^ne-4imit  them  not  ourselves,  but  leave 
them  to  be  applied  by  the  hearer:  whereas  a  singular 
name  is  limited  and  restrained  to  one  of  the  many  things 
it  signifieth ;  as  wben  we  say,  this  man,  pointing  to  him, 
or  giving  him  his  proper  name,  or  by  some  such  other 

way.' 

7.     The  appellations  that  be  universal,  and  common 
to  many  things,  are  not  always  given  to  all  the  particu- 


If 


•Compare  the  following  from  the  Elements  of  Philosophy, 
CM  I,  19-20).  *'A  common  name,  being  the  name  of  many  thmgs 
Severally  taken,  but  not  collectively  of  all  together  (as  man  is 
not  the  name  of  all  mankind,  but  of  every  one,  as  of  Peter,  John, 
md  the  rest  severally)   is  therefore  called  an  unwersal  name; 


T 


I 

I 


i 


»  .     ELBMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

lars,  (as  they  ought  to  be)  for  Hke  conceptions,  and  Hke 
considerations  in  them  all ;  which  is  the  cause  that  many 
of  them  are  not  of  constant  signification,  but  bring  into 
our  mind  other  thoughts  than  those  for  which  they  were 
ordained,  and  these  are  called  equivocal.  As  for  example, 
the  word  faith  sig^ifieth  the  same  with  belief ;  sometimes 
It  signifieth  particularly  that  belief  which  maketh  a  Chrii- 
tian ;  and  sometime  it  signifieth  the  keeping  of  a  promise. 
Also  all  metaphors  are  by  profession  equivocal:  and  there 
is  scarce  any  word  that  is  not  made  equivocal  by  divers 
contextures  of  speech,  or  by  diversity  of  pronunciation 
and  gesture. 

8.  This  equivocation  of  names  maketh  it  difhcult  to  re- 
cover those  conceptions  for  which  the  name  was  ordained : 
and  that  not  only  in  the  language  of  other  men,  where- 
in we  are  to  consider  the  drift,  and  occasion,  and  con- 
texture of  the  speech,  as  well  as  the  words  themselves ; 
but  also  in  our  discourse,  which  being  derived  from  the 
custom  and  common  use  of  speech,  representeth  unto  us 
not  our  own  conceptions.  It  is  therefore  a  great  ability 
in  a  man,  out  of  the  words,  contexture,  and  other  circum- 
stances of  language,  to  deliver  himself  from  equivocation, 
and  to  find  out  the  true  meaning  of  what  is  said :  and  this 
is  it  we  call  understandinf^. 


and  therefore  this  word  universal  is  never  the  name  of  anything 
existent  in  nature,  nor  of  any  idea  or  phantasm  formed  in  the 
mind,  but  alwavs  the  name  of  some  word  or  name ;  so  that  when 
a  living  creature,  a  stone,  a  spirit,  or  any  other  thing,  is  said  to  be 
universal,  it  is  not  to  be  understood,  that  any  man,  stone,  &c. 
ever  was  or  can  be  universal,  but  only  that  these  words,  living 
creature,  stone, &»c.  are  universal  names,  that  is,  names  common 
to  many  things;  and  the  conceptions  answering  them  in  our 
mind,  are  the  images  and  phantasms  of  several  living  creatures, 
or  other  things.  And  therefore,  for  the  understanding  of  the  ex- 
tent of  an  universal  name,  we  need  no  other  faculty  but  that  of 
our  imagination,  by  which  we  remember  that  such  names  bring 
sometimes  one  thing,  sometimes  another,  into  our  mind/' 


I 


OF  NAMES  n 

9.  Of  two  appeilaiions,  by  the  help  of  this  little  verb 
is,  or  something  equivalent,  we  make  an  affirmation  or 
negation,  either  of  which  in  the  Schools  we  call  also  a 
proposition,  and  consisteth  of  two  appellations  joined 
together  by  the  said  verb  is:  as  for  example,  man  is  a 
living  creature ;  or  thus,  man  is  ^ot_righteous  :\ whereof 
the  former  is  called  an  affirmation,  because  the  appella- 
tion, living  creature,  is  positive;  the  latter  a  negative,  be- 
cause not  righteous  is  privative, 

10.  In  every  proposition,  be  it  affirmative  or  nega- 
tive, the  latter  appellation  either  comprehendeth  the  for- 
mer, as  in  this  proposition,  charity  is  a  virtue,  the  name  of 
virtue  comprehendeth  the  name  of  charity,  and  many 
other  virtues  beside;  and  then  is  the  proposition  said  to 
be  true  or  trutJi:  for,  truth,  and  a  true  proposition,  is  all 
one.  Or  else  the  latter  appellation  comprehendeth  not  the 
former;  as  in  this  proposition,  every  man  is  just;  the 
name  of  just  comprehendeth  not  every  man ;  for  unjust  is 
the  name  of  the  far  greater  part  of  men :  and  the  propo- 
sition is  said  to  be  false,  or  falsity :  falsity  and  a  false  | 
proposition  being  also  the  same  thing. 

11.  In  what  manner  of  two  propositions,  whether 
both  affirmative,  or  one  affirmative,  the  other  negative, 
is  made  a  syllogism,  I  forbear  to  write.  All  this  that  hath 
been  said  of  names  or  propositions,  though  necessary,  is 
but  dry  discourse :  and  this  place  is  not  for  the  whole  art 
of  logic,  which  if  I  enter  further  into,  I  ought  to  pur- 
sue :  besides,  it  is  not  needful ;  for  there  be  few  men  which 
have  not  so  much  natural  logic,  as  thereby  to  discern  well 
enough,  whether  any  conclusion  I  shall  make  in  this  dis- 
course hereafter,  be  well  or  ill  collected :  only  thus  much 
I  say  in  this  place,  that  making  of  syllogisms  is  that  we 
call  ratiocination  or  reasoning. 

12.  Now  when  a  man  reasoneth  from  principles  that 


P 

s 


C  H-^ 


-vy 


"A 


H- 


14  ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHV 

^e  found  indubitable  by  experience,  all  deceptions  of 
sense  and  equivocation  of  words  avoided,  the  conclusion 
he  maketh  is  said  to  be  according  to  right  reason:  but 
when  from  his  conclusion  a  man  may,  by  good  ratiocma- 
tion,  derive  that  which  is  contradictory  to  any  evident 
truth  whatsoever,  then  he  is  said  to  have  concluded 
against  reason:   and   such   a  conclusion   is   called   ab- 

wctr^  o^    '^'  surdity. 

13.  As  the  invention  of  names  hath  been  necessary 
for  the  drawing  men  out  of  ignorance,  by  calling  to  their 
remembrance  the  necessary  coherence  of  one  conception 
to  another ;  so  also  hath  it  on  the  other  side  precipitated 
men  into  error:  insomuch,  that  whereas  by  the  benefit 
of  words  and  ratiocination  they  exceed  hrute  beasts  m 
knowledge,  and  the  commodities  that  accwnpany  the 
same ;  so  they  exceed  them  also  in  error:  for  true  and  .  ^ 

i  false  are  things  not  incident  to  beasts,  because  thei  ad-  ft^> 
)  here  not  to  propositions  and  language;  nor  have  they 
]  ratiocination,  whereby  to  multiply  one  untruth  by  another, 
\as  men  have. 

14.  It  is  the  nature  almost  of  every  corporal  thing, 
.^  'LftfJ^  u:  being  often  moved  in  one  and  the  same  manner,  to  re- 

i  J,UU;  V  ceive  continually  a  greater  and  greater  easiness  and  apti- 

K-VTii*^  ^''^^  tude  to  the  same  motion,  insomuch  as  in  time  the  same 


^^• 


becometh  so  habitual,  that,  to  beget  it,  there  needs 
no  more  than  to  begin  it.  The  passions  of  man,  as  they 
are  the  beginning  of  voluntary  motions ;  so  are  they  the 
beginning  of  speech,  which  is  the  motion  of  the  tongue. 
And  mjen  desiring  to  shew  others  the  knowledge,  opin- 
ions, conceptions,  and  passions  which  are  in  themselves, 
and  to  that  end  having  invented  language,  have  by  that 
jmeans  transferred  all  that  discursion  of  their  mind  men- 
tioned in  the  former  chapter'  by  the  motion  of  their 
I  tongues,  into,  discourse  of  words:  and  ratio  now  is  but 


<:« 


ioLna..->r 


; 


i 


t 


OF  NAMES 


«S 


oratio,  for  the  most  part,  wherein  custom  hath  so  gr«t 
a  power,  that  the  mind  suggesteth  only  the  first  word; 
the  rest  follow  habitually,  and  are  not  followed  by  the 
mind;  as  it  is  with  beggars,  when  they  say  their  ^a<^f- 
noster.  putting  together  such  words,  and  in  such  man- 
ner   as    in   their   education   they    have    learned    trom 
their  nurses,  from  their  companies,  or  from  tlieir  teach- 
ers, having  no  images  or  conceptions  in  their  mind,  an- 
swering to  the  words  they  speak:  and  as  they  have 
learned  themselves,  so  they  teach  posterity.    Now,  if  we 
consider  the  power  of  those  deceptions  of  the  sense,  men- 
tioned chapter  11.  section  10,  and  also  how  unconstantly 
names  have  been   settled,   and  how   subject  they   are 
to    equivocation,    and    how    diversHied    by    pass,on, 
(scarce  two  men  agreeing  what  is  to  be  called  good  and 
what  evil;  what  liberality,  what  prodigality ;  what  valour, 
what  temlerity)  and  how  subject  men  are  to  paralogism  or 
fallacy  in  reasoning,  I  may  in  a  manner  conclude,  that  it  | 
is  impossible  to  rectify  so  many  errors  of  any  one  man,  I 
as  must  needs  proceed  from  those  causes,  without  begin- 
ning  anew  from  the  very  first  grounds  of  all  our  knowl-  } 
edge  and  sense ;  and  instead  of  books,  reading  over  order- 
ly  one's  own  conceptions:  in  which  meaning.  I  t^kc  nosce  j 
teipsum  for  a  precept  worthy  the  reputation  it  hath  got- 
ten.* 

« Compare  on  the  whole  discussion  ^^\^'Z"Tom^Tt^n 
Hobbes'  discussion  of  abstract  «ames  is  important  Compare  on 
Sis  topic  the  Elements  of  Philosophy  Ch.  HI.  Sec^3-4^al^o  J^ 
fnllowine  from  the  same  work,  (M.  I.  103).  '* '^°"*^^"'"f^  }", 
name  of  a  tody,  that  is.  concerning  a   concrete  name,   it  be 

^^^Xhat  is  /?•  the  answer  "?"=' t'nTf^he'nte"'  Bui   ft  be 
question  is  concerning  the  signification  of  the  name^  cause  is  de- 
Isked  concerning  an  abstract  name,  what,s     .<•  the  cause  ,s  ae 
manded  why  a  thing  appears  so  or  so.    As  if  >^be  |'^*^;,7,''rt 
is  hardf    The  answer  will  be,  hard  is  ttiat,  wn^"^^"'.    .    i" . 
rives  place,  but  when  the  whole  gives  place.     But  if  it  be  de 


5 


{ 


/t-^^^* 


1 


CHAPTER   in. 

OF  PROPOSITIONS. 

1.  Divers  kinds  of  speech.— 2.  Proposition  defined.— 3.  Subject, 
predicate,  and  copula,  what  they  are;  and  abstract  and  con- 
crete what.— 4.  The  use  and  abuse  of  names  abstract- [5.  Pro- 
position, universal  and  particular.— 6.  Affirmative  and  nega- 
gative.]— 7.  True  and  false.— S.  True  and  false  belongs  to 
speech,  and  not  to  things.— [9.  Proposition,  primary,  not 
primary,  definition,  axiom,  petition.— 10.  Proposition,  neces- 
sary and  contingent. — 11.  Categorical  and  hypothetical. — 12. 
The  same  proposition  diversely  pronounced.— 13.  Proposi- 
tions that  may  be  reduced  to  the  same  categorical  proposition, 
areequipollent.— 14.  Universal  propositions  converted  by  con- 
tradictory names,  are  equipollent.— 15.  Negative  propositions 
are  the  same,  whether  negation  be  before  or  after  the  copula. 
— 16.  Particular  propositions  simply  converted,  are  equipol- 
lent—17.  What  are  subaltern,  contrary,  subcontrary,  and  con- 
tradictory propositions.]— 18.  Consequence,  what  it  is— 19. 
Falsity  cannot  follow  from  truth.— 20.  How*  one  proposition 
is  the  cause  of  another. 

I.  From  the  connexion  or  contexture  of  names  arise 
divers  kinds  of  speech,  whereof  some  signify  the  desires 
and  aflPections  of  men;  such  are,  first,  interrogations, 
which  denote  the  desire  of  knowing :  as,  Who  is  a  good 
man?  In  which  speech  there  is  one  name  expressed, 
and  another  desired  and  expected  from  him  of  whom  we 
ask  the  same.  Then  prayers,  which  signify  the  desire  of 
having  something;  promises,  threats,  wishes,  commands, 
complaints,  and  other  significations  of  other  affections. 
Speech  may  also  be  absurd  and  insignificant;  as  when 
there  is  a  succession  of  words,  to  which  there  can  be  no 
succession  of  thoughts  in  mind  to  answer  them ;  and  this 
happens  often  to  such,  as,  understanding  nothing  in  some 
subtle  matter,  do,  nevertheless,  to  make  others  believe 
they  understand,  speak  of  the  same  incoherently ;  for  the 

Answer  to  Bishop  Bramhall,  (M.  IV,  309).  "Essence  and  all 
other  abstract  names,  are  words  artificial  belonging  to  the  art  of 
logic,  and  signify  onlv  the  manner  how  we  consider  the  substance 
itself." 


:: 


:: 


OF  PROPOSITIONS 


a7 


connection  of  incoherent  words,  though  it  want  the  end 
of  speech  (which  is  signification)  yet  it  is  speech;  and  is 
used  by  writers  of  metaphysics  almost  as  frequently  as 
speech  significative,  /in  philosophy,  there  is  but  one  kind 
of  speech  useful,  which  some  call  in  Latin  dictum,  others 
enuntiatum  et  pronunciatum ;  but  most  men  call  it  prop- 
osition, and  is  the  speech  of  those  that  affirm  or  deny,  and 
expresseth  truth  or  falsity. 

2.  A  PROPOSITION  is  a  speech  consisting  of  two  names 
copulated,  by  which  he  that  speaketh  signifies  he^jon- 
ceives  the  latter  name  to  he  the  name  of  the  same  thing 
whereof  the  former  is  the  name;  or  (which  is  all  one) 
that  the  former  name  is  comprehended  by  the  latter.  For 
example,  this  speech,  man  is  a  living  creature,  in  which 
two  names  are  copulated  by  the  verb  is,  is  a  proposition, 
for  this  reason,  that  he  that  speaks  it  conceives  both  liv- 
ing creature  and  wiaw  to  be  names  of  the  same  thing,  or 
that  the  former  name,  man,  is  comprehended  by  the  latter 
name,  living  creature.  Now  the  former  name  is  com- 
monly called  the  subject,  or  antecedent,  or  the  contained 
name,  and  the  latter  the  predicate,  consequent,  or  con- 
taining name.  The  sign  of  connection  amongst  most 
nations  is  either  some  word,  as  the  word  is  in  the  prop- 
osition man  is  a  living  creature,  or  some  case  or  termina- 
tion of  a  word,  as  in  this  proposition,  man  walketh 
(which  is  equivalent  to  this,  man  is  walking)  ;  the  term- 
ination by  which  it  is  said  he  walketh,  rather  than  he  is 
walking,  signifieth  that  those  two  are  understood  to  be 
copulated,  or  to  be  names  of  the  same  thing. 

But  there  are,  or  certainly  may  be,  some  nations  that 
have  no  word  which  answers  to  our  verb  is,  who  never- 
theless form  propositions  by  the  position  only  of  one 
name  after  another,  as  if  instead  of  man  is  a  living  creat- 
ure, it  should  be  said  man  a  living  creature;  for  the  very 


/ 


I 


U't  4. 


7 


aB  ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

order  of  the  names  may  sufficiently  show  their  connec- 

SiTand  they  are  as  apt  and  useful  in  philosophy,  as  if 

they  were  copulated  by  the  verb  xs> 

,     Wherefore,  in  every  proposition  three  things  are 

to  be  considered,  viz.  the  two  names,  which  arc  Oie  J«b- 
ieci  and  the  trd^cate,  and  their  cofMloXxon;  both  which 

iam<rraise  in  our  mind  the  thought  of  one  and  the  same 

thing;  but  the  copulation  makes  us  think  of  the  caus« 

for  which  those  names  were  imposed  on  that  thing.    As, 

:  Sample,  when  we  say  a  hody  is  moveaUe,  though  we 

conceive  the  same  thing  to  be  designed  by  both  those 

names  yet  our  mind  rests  not  there,  but  searches  farther 

what  it  is  to  be  a  body,  or  to  be  moveable,  that  •«.  wherein 

consists  the  difference  betwixt  these  and  other  thmg^,  for 

which  these  are  so  called,  others  are  not  so  called.    They 

therefore,  that  seek  what  it  is  to  be  any  thmg.  as  to  be 

moveable,  to  be  hot,  &c.  seek  in  things  the  causes  of 

their  names.  ...         c 

And  from  hence  arises  that  distinction  of  names 
rtouched  in  the  last  chapter)  into  concrete  and  abstract. 
For  concrete  is  the  name  of  any  thing  which  we  suppose 
to  have  a  being,  and  is  therefore  called  the  subject,  ^^ 
Latin  suppositum,  and  in  Greek  i:roxc.>cvov ;  as  body, 
moveable,  moved,  figurate,  a  cubit  high,  hot,  cold,  like, 
equal,  Appius,  Lentulus,  and  the  like;  and.  abstract  is 


and  th^livinz  hody,  is  the  same  thing ;  because  the  consequence, 
same,  are  the  niames  of  nothing. 


OF  PROPOSITIONS  aj? 

that  which  in  any  subject  denotes  the  cause  of  the  ^^' -,/^*"^^^^  J 
Crete  name,  as  to  he  a  body,  to  be  moveable,  to  be  moved,  ^  ^'^ 
to  be  figurate,  to  be  of  such  quantity,  to  be  hot,  to  be  ^ 


l^f 


cold,  to  be  like,  to  be  equal,  to  be  Appius,  to  be  Lentulus, 
&c.  Or  names  equivalent  to  these,  which  are  most  com- 
monly called  abstract  names,  as  corporiety,  mobility,  mo- 
tion, agure,  quantity,  heat,  cold,  likeness,  equality,  and 
(as  Cicero  has  it)  Appiety  and  Lentulity,  Of  the  same 
kind  also  are  infinitives ;  for  to  live  and  to  move  are  the 
same  with  life  and  motion,  or  to  be  living  and  to 
be  moved,  (But  abstract  names  denote  only  the  causes? 
of  concrete  names,  and  not  the  things  themselves.  For) 
example,  when  we  see  anything,  or  conceive  in  our  mind 
any  visible  thing,  that  thing  appears  to  us,  or  is  conceived 
by  us,  not  in  one  point,  but  as  having  parts  distant  from 
one  another,  that  is,  as  being  extended  and  filling  some 
space.  Seeing  therefore  we  call  the  thing  so  conceived 
body,  the  cause  of  that  name  is,  that  that  thing  is  ex- 
tended,  or  the  extension  or  corporiety  of  it  So  when  we 
see  a  thing  appear  sometimes  here,  sometimes  there,  and 
call  it  moved  or  removed,  the  cause  of  that  name  is  that 
it  is  moved  or  the  motion  of  the  same. 

And  these  causes  of  names  are  the  same  with  the  causes 
of  our  conceptions,  namely,  some  power  of  action,  or  af- 
fection of  the  thing  conceived,  which  some  call  the  man- 
ner by  which  any  thing  works  upon  our  senses,  but  by  / 
most  men  they  are  called  accidents;  I  say  accidents,  not  *) 
in  that  sense  in  which  accident  is  opposed  to  necessary;  ^ 
but  so,  as  being  neither  the  things  themselves,  nor  parts  S 
thereof,  do  nevertheless  accompany  the  things  in  such 
manner,  that  (saving  extension)  they  may  all  perish,  and 
be  destroyed,  but  can  never  be  abstracted. 

4.     There  is  also  this  difference  betwixt  concrete  and 
abstract  names,  that  those  were  invented  before  propo- 


^^»«-<A4-2^~ 


J^ 


&^ 


lT 


.V 


< 


JO  ELFMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

sitions,  but  these  after;  for  these  could  have  no  being" 
till  there  were  propositions,  from  whose  copula  they 
proceed.  Now  in  all  matters  that  concern  this  life,  but 
chiefly  in  philosq)hy,  there  is  both  great  use  and  great 
abuse  of  abstract  natnes;/and  the  use  consists  in  this,  that 
without  them  we  cannot,  for  the  most  part,  either  reason, 
or  compute  the  properties  of  bodies ;  for  when  we  would 
multiply,  divide,  add,  or  substract  heat,  light,  or  motion, 
if  we  should  double  or  add  them  together  by  concrete 
names,  saying  (for  example)  hot  is  double  to  hot,  light 
double  to  light,  or  moved  double  to  moved,  we  should 
not  double  the  properties,  but  the  bodies  themselves  that 
are  hot,  light,  moved,  &c.  which  we  would  not  do.  But 
f^^e  abuse  proceeds  from  this,  that  some  men  seeing  they 
can  consider,  that  is  (as  I  said  before)  bring  into  ac- 
count the  increasings  and  decreasings  of  quantity,  heat 
and  other  accidents,  without  considering  their  bodies  or 
subjects  (which  they  call  abstracting,  or  making  to  ex- 
ist apart  by  themselves)  they  speak  of  accidents,  as  if 
they  might  be  separated  from  all  bodies.  And  from 
hence  proceed  the  gross  errors  of  writers  of  metaphysics ; 
for,  because  they  can  consider  tliought  without  the  con- 
sideration of  body,  they  infer  there  is  no  need  of  a  think- 
ing-body ;  and  because  quantity  may  be  considered  with- 
out considering  body,  they  think  also  that  quantity  may 
be  without  body,  and  body  without  quantity ;  and  that  a 
body  has  quantity  by  the  addition  of  quantity  to  it. 
From  the  same  fountain  spring  those  insignificant  words, 
abstract  substance,  separated  essence,  and  the  like;  as 
ajso  that  confusion  of  words  derived  from  the  Latin 
verb  est,  as  essence,  essentiality,  entity,  entitative;  be- 
sides reality,  aliquiddity,  quiddity,  &c.  which  could  never 
have  been  heard  of  among  such  nations  as  do  not  copu- 
late their  names  by  the  verb  is,  but  by  adjective  verbs,  as 


! 


\ 


i 


i' 


OF  PROPOSITIONS 


31 


runneth,  readeth,  &c.  or  by  the  mere  placing  of  one  name 
after  another;  and  yet  seeing  such  nations  ccMnpute  and 
reason,  it  is  evident  that  philosq)hy  has  no  need  of  those 
words  essence,  entity,  and  other  the  like  barbarous  terms. 


7.  The  third  distinction  is,  that  one  is  true,  another 
false.  A  true  proposition  is  that,  whose  predicate  con- 
tains, or  comprehends  its  subject,  or  whose  predicate  is 
the  name  of  every  thing,  of  which  the  subject  is  the 
name;  as  man  is  a  living  creature  is  therefore  a  true 
proposition,  because  whatsoever  is  called  man,  the  same 
is  also  called  living  creature;  and  some  man  is  sick,  is 
true,  because  sick  is  the  name  of  some  man.  That  which 
is  not  true,  or  that  whose  predicate  does  not  contain  its 
subject,  is  called  a  false  proposition,  as  man  is  a  stone* 

Now  these  words  true,  truth,  and  true  proposition, 
are  equivalent  to  one  another;  for  truth  consists  in 
speech,  and  not  in  the  things  spoken  of;  and  though  true 
be  sometimes  opposed  to  apparent  or  feigned,  yet  it  is  al- 
ways to  be  referred  to  the  truth  of  proposition;  for  the 
image  of  a  man  in  a  glass,  or  a  ghost,  is  therefore  denied 
to  be  a  very  man,  because  this  proposition,  a  ghost  is  a 
man,  is  not  true ;  for  it  cannot  be  denied  but  that  a  ghost 
is  a  very  ghost.  And  therefore  truth  or  verity  is  not  any 
affection  of  the  thing,  but  of  the  proposition  concerning 
it  As  for  that  which  the  writers  of  metaphysics  say, 
that  a  thing,  one  thing,  and  a  very  thing,  are  equiv- 
alent to  one  another,  it  is  but  trifling  and  childish;  for 
who  does  not  know,  that  a  man,  one  man,  and  a  very 
man,  signify  the  same.* 


'  Compare  above.  Supplement  to  Ch.  II,  Sec.  10. 
•  Compare  below  Ch.  V,  also  the  Leviathan  p.  124. 


V 

ja  ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY      ]^^<A^'^ 

^         ... 
8.    And  from  hence  it  is  evident,  that^truth  and  fals- 

I  ;  ity  have  no  place  but  amongst  such  livmg  creatures  as 

\/h.  f^    ^  use  speech.     For  though  some  brute  creatures,  looking 

upon  the  image  of  a  man  in  a  glass,  may  be  affected  with 
it,  as  if  it  were  the  man  himself,  and  for  this  reason  fear 
it  or  fawn  upon  it  in  vain;  yet  they  do  not  apprehend 
it  as  true  or  false,  but  only  as  like ;  and  in  this  they  are 
not  deceived.  Wherefore,  as  men  owe  all  their  true 
ratiocination  to  the  right  understanding  of  speech;  so 
also  they  owe  their  errors  to  the  misunderstanding  of 
the  same ;  and  as  all  the  ornaments  of  philosophy  proceed 
only  from  man,  so  from  man  also  is  derived  the  ugly 
absurdity  of  false  opinions.  For  speech  has  something 
in  it  like  to  a  spider's  web,  (as  it  was  said  of  old  of 
Solon's  laws)  for  by  contexture  of  words  tender  and 
delicate  wits  are  ensnared  and  stopped ;  but  strong  wits 
break  easily  through  them.* 

From  hence  also  this  may  be  deduced,  that  the  first 
I  truths  were  arbitrarily  made  by  those  that  first  of  all 
'^imposed  names  upon  things,  or  received  them  from  the 
imposition  of  others.  For  it  is  true  (for  example)  that 
man  is  a  living  creature,  but  it  is  for  this  reason,  that  it 
pleased  men  to  impose  both  those  names  on  the  same 
thing.'' 


ItOiC^J. 


l8.    A  proposition  is  said  to  follow  from  two  other 
propositions,  when  these  being  granted  to  be  true,  it  can- 


*  Compare  above,  Supplement  to  Ch.  H,  Sec.  13. 

»  Compare  the  following  from  Philosophical  Rudiments,  (M. 
II,  302-304).  "We  grant  propositions  sometimes,  which  not- 
withstanding we  receive  not  into  our  minds ;  and  this  either  for 
a  time,  to  wit,. so  long,  till  by  consideration  of  the  consequences 


t 


r         -» 


T 


OF  PROPOSITIONS  31 

not  be  denied  but  the  other  is  true  also.  For  example, 
let  these  two  propositions,  every  man  is  a  living  creature, 
and,  every  living  creature  is  a  body,  be  supposed  true, 
that  is,  that  body,  is  the  name  of  every  living  creature^ 
and  living  creature  the  name  of  every  man.     Seeing 

we  have  well  examined  the  truth  of  them,  which  we  call  sup-     \ 
posing;  or  also  simply,  as  through  fear  of  the  laws,  which  is  to    \j/ 
profess,  or  confess  by  outward  tokens ;  or  for  a  voluntary  com- 
pliance sake,  which  men  use  out  of  civility  to  those  whom  they 
respect,  and  for  love  of  peace  to  others,    which  is  absolute  yteld- 
in/    Now  the  propositions  which  we  receive  for  truth,  we  al- 
ways grant  for  some  reasons  of  our  own;  and  these  arc  de- 
rived either  from  the  proposition  itself,  or  from  the  person  pro- 
pounding.   They  are  derived  from  the  proposition  itself,  \>y  call- 
ing to  mind  what  things  those  words,  which  make  up  the  prop- 
osition, do  by  common  consent  usually  signify.     If  so,  then  the 
assent  which  we  give,  is  called  knowledge  or  science     But  if  we 
cannot  remember  what  is  certainly  understood  by  those  words, 
but  sometimes  one  thing,  sometimes  anoiher  seem  to  be  appre- 
hended by  us,  then  we  are  said  to  think.    For  example,  if  it  be 
propounded  that  two  and  three  make  five;  and  by  calling  to  mma, 
that  the  order  of  numeral  words  is  so  appointed  by  the  com- 
mon consent  of  them  who  are  of  the  same  language  with  us, 
(as  It  weie,  by  a  certain  contract  necessary  for  human  aociety). 
that  five  shall  be  the  name  of  so  many  unities  as  are  contained 
in  two  and  three  taken  together,  a  man  assent  that  this  is  there- 
fore true,  because  two  and  three  together  arc  the  same  w\^h  live : 
this  assent  shall  be  called  knowledge.    And  to  know  this  truth 
is  nothing  else,  but  to  acknowledge  that  it  is  made  by  ourselves. 
For  by  whose  will  and  rules  of  speaking  the  number  |  |  is  called 
two.  I  I  I  is  called  three,  and  |  |  |  |  |  is  called  five ;  by  thejr  will 
also  it  comes  to  pass  that  this  proposition  is  true,  two  and  three 
taken  together  make  five.    In^like  manner  if  we  remember  what 
it  is  that  is  called  theft,  and  what  injury;  we  shall  understand  by 
the  words  themselves,  whether  it  be  true  that  theft  xs  an  injury,  ot 
not.    Truth  is  the  same  with  a  true  proposition;  but  the  proposition 
is  true  in  which  the  word  consequent,  which  by  logicians  is  called 
the  predicate,  embraceth  the  word  antecedent  in  its  amplitude, 
which  they  call  the  subject.    And  to  know  truth,  is  the  same  thing 
as  to  remember  that  it  was  made  bv  ourselves  by  the  very  usur- 
patjon  of  the  words."  Compare  also  the  following  from  the  hie- 
ments  of  Philosophy,  (M.  I.  130-131).    "All  propositions  con- 
cerning future  things,  contingent  or  not  contingent,  as  this,  it 
will  rain  tomorrow,  or  this,  tomorrow  the  sun  will  m^  arc 
either  necessarily  true,  or  necessarily  false;  but  we  call  them 
conting^  because  we  do  not  yet  know  whether  they  be  true  or 


mmm^ 


54 


ELJ  MENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


therefore,  if  these  be  understcxxl  to  be  true,  it  cannot 
be  understood  that  body  is  not  the  name  of  every  man, 
that  is,  that  every  man  is  a  body  is  false,  this  proposition 
will  be  said  to  follow  from  those  two,  or  to  be  neces-' 
sarily  inferred  from  them.  . 

>  19.  That  a  true  pi^oposition  may  follow  frcwn  false 
/  propositions,  may  happen  sometimes ;  but  false  from  true, 
V  never.  For  if  these,  every  man  is  a  stone,  and  every 
stone  is  a  living  creature,  (which  are  both  false)  be 
granted  to  be  true,  it  is  granted  also  that  living  creature 
is  the  name  of  every  stone,  and  stone  of  every  man,  that 
is,  that  living  creature  is  the  name  of  every  man;  that 
is  to  say,  this  proposition  every  man  is  a  living  creature, 
is  true,  as  it  is  indeed  true.  Wherefore  a  true  proposi- 
tion may  sometimes  follow  from  false.  But  if  any  two 
propositions  be  true,  a  false  one  can  never  follow  from 
them.  For  if  true  follow  from  false,  for  this  reason  only, 
that  the  false  are  granted  to  be  true,  then  truth  from  two 
truths  granted  will  follow  in  the  same  manner. 

20.  Now,  seeing  none  but  a  true  proposition  will  fol- 
low frcMn  true,  and  that  the  understanding  of  two  prop- 
ositions to  be  true,  is  the  cause  of  understanding  that 
also  to  be  true  which  is  deduced  from  them ;  the  two  an- 
tecedent propositions  are  commonly  called  the  causes  of 


false ;  whereas  their  verity  depends  not  upon  our  knowledge,  but 
upon  the  foregoing  of  their  causes.  But  there  are  some,  who 
though  they  confess  this  whole  proposition,  tomorrow  it  will 
either  rain,  or  not  rain,  to  be  true,  yet  they  will  not  acknowledge 
the  parts  of  it,  as,  tomorrow  it  will  rain,  or  tomorrow  it  will  not 
rain,  to  be  either  of  them  true  by  itself ;  because  they  say  neither 
this  nor  that  is  true  determinately.  But  what  is  this  determinate- 
ly  true,  but  true  upon  our  knowledge,  or  evidently  true?  And 
therefore  they  say  no  more  but  that  it  is  not  yet  known  whether 
it  be  true  or  no ;  but  they  say  it  more  obscurely,  and  darken  tiic 
evidence  of  the  truth  with  the  same  words,  with  which  they  en- 
deavor to  hide  their  own  ignorance." 


J 


u 


7 


OF   PROPOSITIONS 


3S 


the  inferred  proposition,  or  conclusion.  And  from  hence 
it  is  that  logicians  say,  the  premises  are  causes  of  the 
conclusion;  which  may  pass,  though  it  be  not  properly 
spoken;  for  though  understanding  be  the  cause  of  un- 
derstanding, yet  speech  is  not  the  cause  of  speech.  But 
when  they  say,  the  cause  of  the  properties  of  any  thing, 
is  the  thing  itself,  they  speak  absurdly.  For  example, 
if  a  figure  be  propounded  which  is  triangular;  seeing 
every  triangle  has  all  its  angles  together  equal  to  two 
right  angles,  frctfn  whence  it  follows  that  all  the  angles 
of  that  figure  are  equal  to  two  right  angles,  they  say, 
for  this  reason,  that  that  figure  is  the  cause  of  that 
equality.  But  seeing  the  figure  does  not  itself  make  its 
angles,  and  therefore  cannot  be  said  to  be  the  efficient- 
cause,  they  call  it  the  formal-cause ;  -vfhcTtdiS  indeed  it  is 
no  cause  at  all ;  nor  does  the  property  of  any  figure  fol- 
low the  figure,  but  has  its  being  at  the  same  time  with 
it;  only  the  knowledge  of  the  figure  goes  before  the 
knowledge  of  the  properties ;  and  one  knowledge  is  truly 
the  cause  of  another  knowledge,   namely   the   efficient 

cause. 

And  thus  much  concerning  proposition;  which  in  the 
progress  of  philosophy  is  the  first  step,  like  the  moving 
fowards  of  one  foot.  By  the  due  addition  of  another 
step  I  shall  proceed  to  syllogism,  and  make  a  complete 
pace.     Of  which  in  the  next  chapter. 


«J««> 


OF  SYLLOGISM 


37 


CHAPTER  IV. 


OF    SYLLOGISM. 


X.  The  definition  of  syllogism. — 2.  In  a  syllogism  there  are  but 
three  terms.— 3.  Major,  minor,  and  middle  term;  also  major 
and  minor  proposition,  what  they  are. — [4.  The  middle  term 
in  every  syllogism  ought  to  be  determined  in  both  the  propo- 
sitions to  one  and  the  same  thing. — 5.  From  two  particular 
propositions  nothing  can  be  concluded. — 6.  A  syllogism  is 
the  collection  of  two  proi>ositions  into  one  sum. — 7.  The  fig- 
ure of  a  syllogism,  what  it  is.]— 8.  What  is  in  the  mind  an- 
swering to  a  syllogism. — [9.  The  first  indirect  figure,  how  it 
is  made. — 10.  The  second  indirect  figure,  how  made. — 11. 
How  the  third  indirect  figure  is  made. — 12.  There  are  many 
moods  in  every  figure,  but  most  of  them  useless  in  philos- 
ophy.— 13.  An  hypothetical  syllogism  when  equipollent  to  a 
categorical.] 

I.  A  SPEECH,  consisting  of  three  propositions,  from  two 
of  which  the  third  follows,  is  called  a  syllogism  ;  and 
that  which  follows  is  called  the  conclusion;  the  other 
two  premises.  For  example,  this  speech,  every  man  is 
a  living  creature,  every  living  creature  is  a  body,  there- 
fore, every  man  is  a  body,  is  a  syllogism,  because  the 
third  proposition  follows  from  the  two  first;  that  is,  if 
those  be  granted  to  be  true,  this  must  also  be  granted 
to  be  true. 

2.  From  two  propositions  which  have  not  one  term 
common,  no  conclusion  can  follow;  and  therefore  no 
syllogism  can  be  made  of  them.  For  let  any  two  prem- 
ises, a  man  is  a  living  creature,  a  tree  is  a  plant,  be  both 
of  them  true,  yet  because  it  cannot  be  collected  from 
them  that  plant  is  the  name  of  a  man,  or  man  the 
name  of  a  plant,  it  is  not  necessary  that  this  conclusion, 
a  man  is  a  plant,  should  be  true.  Corollary :  therefore, 
in  the  premises  of  a  syllogism  there  can  be  but  three 
terms. 


Besides,  there  can  be  no  term  in  the  conclusion,  which 
was  not  in  the  premises.  For  let  any  two  premises  be, 
a  man  is  a  living  creature,  a  living  creature  is  a  body, 
yet  if  any  other  term  be  put  in  the  conclusion,  as  man 
is  two-footed;  though  it  be  true,  it  cannot  follow  from 
the  premises,  because  from  them  it  cannot  be  collected, 
that  the  name  two-footed  belongs  to  a  man;  and  there- 
fore, again,  in  every  syllogism  there  can  be  but  three 
terms, 

3.  Of  these  terms,  that  which  is  the  predicate  in  the 
conclusion,  is  commonly  called  the  major;  that  which  is 
the  subject  in  the  conclusion,  the  minor,  and  the  other 
is  the  middle  term;  as  in  this  syllogism,  a  man  is  a  liv- 
ing creature,  a  living  creature  is  a  body,  therefore,  a 
man  is  a  body,  body  is  the  major,  man  the  minor,  and 
living  creature  the  middle  term.  Also  of  the  premises, 
that  in  which  the  major  term  is  found,  is  called  the 
major  proposition,  and  that  which  has  the  minor  term, 
the  minor  proposition. 


* 


8.    The  thoughts  in  the  mind  answering  to  a  direct 
syllogism,  proceed  in  this  manner ;  first,  there  is  con-   ^,    ^  ^^^^^  ^ 

__r 1     _     _t_ i..-.-.^     ^£    i.t^^    4-UI»i«v    *%nn^aA      MrlfVi     +Vinf    ar*r»i-  / 


ceived  a  phantasm  of  the  thing  named,  with  that  acci- 
dent or  quality  thereof,  for  which  it  is  in  the  minor 
proposition  called  by  that  name  which  is  the  subject; 
next,  the  mind  has  a  phantasm  of  the  same  thing  witii 
that  accident,  or  quality,  for  which  it  hath  the  name,  that 
in  the  same  proposition  is  the  predicate;  thirdly,  the 
thought  returns  of  the  same  thing  as  having  that  acci- 
dent in  it,  for  which  it  is  called  by  the  name,  that  is  the 
predicate  of  the  major  proposition;  and  lastly,  remem- 
berng  that  all  those  are  the  accidents  of  one  and  the 


0^ 


Jl 


38 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


same  thing,  it  concludes  that  those  three  names  |ire  also 
names  of  one  and  the  same  thing ;  that  is  to  say,  the  con- 
clusion is  true.  For  example,  when  this  syllogism  is 
made,  man  is  a  living  creature,  a  living  creature  is  a 
body,  therefore,  man  is  a  body,  the  mind  conceives  first 
an  image  of  a  man  speaking  or  discoursing,  and  remem- 
bers that  that,  which  so  appears,  is  called  man;  then  it' 
has  the  image  of  the  same  man  moving,  and  remembers 
that  that,  which  appears  so,  is  called  living  creature; 
thirdly,  it  conceives  an  image  of  the  same  man,  as  fill- 
ing some  place  or  space,  and  remembers,  that  what  ap- 
pears so  is  called  body;  and  lastly,  when  it  remembers 
that  that  thing,  which  was  extended,  and  moved  and 
spake,  was  one  and  the  same  thing,  it  concludes  that 
the  three  names,  man,  living  creature,  and  body,  are 
names  of  the  same  thing,  and  that  therefore  man  is  a 
living  creature  is  a  true  proposition.  From  whence  it  is 
manifest,  that  living  creatures  that  have  not  the  use  of 
speech,  have  no  conception  or  thought  in  the  mind,  an- 
swering to  a  syllogism  made  of  universal  propositions; 
seeing  it  is  necessary  to  think  not  only  of  the  thing,  but 
also  by  turns  to  remember  the  divers  names,  which  for 
divers  considerations  thereof  are  applied  to  the  same. 


' 


-  » 


M        > 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF   ERRING,    FALSITY,   AND   CAPTIONS. 

I.  Erring  and  falsity  how  they  differ.  Error  of  the  mind  by 
itself  without  the  use  of  words,  how  it  happens.— 2.  A  seven- 
fold incoherency  of  names,  every  one  of  which  makes  always 
a  false  proposition.— [3.  Examples  of  the  first  manner  of  mr 
coherency.— 4.  Of  the  second.— 5.  Of  the  third.— 6.  Of  the 
fourth.- 7.  Of  the  fifth.— 8.  Of  the  sixth.— 9.  Of  the  sevr 
cnth.]— 10.  Falsity  of  propositions  detected  by  resolving  the 
terms  with  definitions  continued  till  they  come  to  simple 
"names,  or  names  that  are  the  most  general  of  their  kind.-r 
[11.  Of  the  fault  of  a  syllogism  consisting  in  the  implication 
of  the  terms  with  the  copula.— 12.  Of  the  fault  which  consists 
in  equivocation.— 13.  Sophistical  captions  are  oftener  faulty 
in  the  matter  than  in  the  form  of  syllogisms.] 


I. 


Men  are  subject  to  err  not  only  in  affirming  and  •  i.*  *- 


xjt^-y^'- 


denying,  but  also  hi  perception,  and   in   silent  cogita- 
tion.'     In  affirming  and  denying,  when  they  call  any  T'^'^T 
thing  by  a  name,  which  is  not  the  name  thereof;  as  if 
from   seeing  the  ^un  first  by  reflection   in   water,   and 
afterwards  again  directly  in  the  firmament,  we  should 
to  both  those  appearances  give  the  name  of  sun,  and  say 
there    are    two    suns;    which    none    but    men    can    do, 
for  no  other  living  creatures  have  the  use  of  names.  This 
kind  of  error  only  deserves  the  name  of  falsity,  as  aris- 
ing, not   from  sense,  nor  from  the  things  themselves, 
but    from    pronouncing   rashly;  (for   names    have   their/ ?^. 
constitution,  not  from  the  species  of  things,  but  from  the^^    J^ 
will  and  consent  of  men.     A^d  hence  it  comes  to  pass,  ^,!^ 

that  men  pronounce  falsely,  by  their  own  negligence,  in 
departing  from  such  appellations  of  things_as  are  agreed 
upon,  and  are  not  deceived  neither  by  the  things,  nor  by 


lU^      4^ 


1  Compare  below  the  Leviathan,  p.  124, 


^U/.    "Ta*-  ^^ 

f      .    , 

« 


-a-«. 


'-^ 


40  ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

the  sense ;  for  they  do  not  perceive  that  the  thing  they  see 
is  called  sun,  but  they  gave  it  that  name  from  their  own 
will  and  agreement. /Tacit  errors,  or  the  errors  of  sense 
and  cogitation,  are  made,  by  passing  from  one  imagina- 
tion to  the  imagination  of  another  different  thing ;  or  by 
feigning  that  to  be  past,  or  future,  which  never  was,  nor 
ever  shall  be ;  as  when,  by  seeing  the  image  of  the  sun  in 
water,  we  imagine  the  sun  itself  to  be  there ;  or  by  see- 
ing swords,  that  there  has  been  or  shall  be  fighting,  be- 
cause it  uses  to  be  so  for  the  most  part ;  or  when  from 
promises  we  feign  the  mind  of  the  promisor  to  be  such 
and  such;  or  lastly,  when  from  any  sign  we  vainly  im- 
agine something  to  be  signified,  which  is  not.  And  er- 
rors of  this  sort  are  common  to  all  things  that  have  sense ; 
and  yet  the  deception  proceeds  neither  from  our  senses, 
nor  from  the  things  we  perceive;  but  from  ourselves 
while  we  feign  such  things  as  are  but  mere  images  to  be 
something  more  than  images.  But  neither  things,  nor 
imaginations  of  things,  can  be  said  to  be  false,  seeing 
they  are  truly  what  they  are;  nor  do  they,  as  signs,  prom- 
ise anything  which  they  do  not  perform;  for^they  indeed 
do  not  promise  at  all,  but  we  from  them ;  nor  do  the 
clouds,  but  we,  from  seeing  the  clouds,  say  it  shall  rain. 
The  best  way,  therefore,  to  free  ourselves  from  such  er- 
rors as  arise  from  natural  signs,  is  first  of  all,  before  we 
begin  to  reason  concerning  such  conjectural  things,  to  sup- 
pose ourselves  ignorant,  and  then  to  make  use  of  our 
ratiocination;  for  these  errors  proceed  from  the  want  of 
ratiocination;  whereas,  errors  which  consist  in  affirma- 
tion and  negation,  (that  is,  the  falsity  of  propositions) 
proceed  only  from  reasoning  amiss.  Of  these,  therefore, 
as  repugnant  to  philosophy,  I  will  speak  principally.^ 


, 


2  Compare  below  the  Leviathan,  p.  135. 


OF  ERWKG,  FALSITY.  AND  CAPTIONS  4t 

a  Errors  which  happen  in  reasoning,  that  is,  in 
syllogizing,  consist  either  in  the  falsity  of  the  prennses, 
I,  of  the  inference.  In  the  first  of  these  cases,  a  syllo- 
eism  is  said  to  be  faulty  in  the  matier  of  it;  and  in  the 
Lond  case,  in  the  iorm.  I  will  first  consider  the  matter 
namely,  how  many  ways  a  proposition  may  be  false ;  and 
next  the  form,  and  how  it  comes  to  pass,  that  when  the 
premises   are  true,   the   inference   is,    notwithstanding, 

false.  f  , 

Seeing,  therefore,  that  proposition  only  is  true,  (chap,  i 
III  art.  7)  in  which  are  copulated  two  names  of  one  ^ 
and  the  same  thing;  and  that  always  false,  in  which  I 
names  of  different  things  are  copulated,  look  how  many  / 
ways  names  of  different  things  may  be  copulated,  and  so 
many  ways  a  false  proposition  may  be  made. 

Now,  all  things  to  which  we  give  names,  may  be 
reduced  'to  these  four  kinds,  namely,  bodies,  accxdents, 
phantasms,   and   names  themselves;   and   therefore,   m 
every  true  proposition,  it  is  necessary  that  the  names  cop- 
ulated, be  both  of  them  names  of  bodies,  or  both  names  of 
accidents,  or  both  names  of  phantasms,  or  both  names  of 
names.    For  names  otherwise  copulated  are  incoherent, 
and  constitute  a  false  proposition.    It  may  happen,  also, 
that  the  name  of  a  body,  of  an  accident,  or  of  a  phan- 
tasm mav  be  copulated  with  the  name  of  a  speech.    So 
that  copulated  names  may  be  incoherent  seven  manner  of 
ways.* 


The  falsities  of  propositions  in  all  these  several  man- 

KTompare  below  the  I^MAan,  p.  136.  Note  Hobbe^' d^finitjonf  \    t^ 
of  fcody  and  accident.    "Body  is  that,  which  having  ""-X^  )  • 

Vnce  Zon  our  thought,  is  coifuidtut  or  coextended  with  *»«* 


4t  ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

ncrs,  is  to  be  discovered  by  the  definitions  of  the  copulated 
names. 

ID.  But  when  names  of  bodies  are  copulated  with 
names  of  bodies,  names  of  accidents  with  names  of  acci- 
dents, names  of  names  with  names  of  names,  and  names 
of  phantasms  with  names  of  phantasms,  if  we,  neverthe- 
less, remain  still  doubtful  whether  such  propositions  are 
true,  we  ought  then  in  the  first  place  to  find  out  the  defini- 
tion'of  both  those  names,  and  again  the  definitions  of 


OF  ERRING.  FALSITY.  AND  CAPTIONS 


43 


\ 


\ 


part  of  space."  (M.  I,  102).  "They  answer  best  that  define  an 
accident  to  be  the  manner  by  which  any  body  w  conceived;  which 
is  all  one  as  if  they  should  say,  an  accident  is  that  faculty  of  any 
body  by  which  it  works  in  us  a  conception  of  itself. 
Wherefore,  I  define  an  accident  to  be  the  manner  of  our  concep- 
tion of  body."  (M.  I,  103,  104).  In  general  the  term  phan- 
tasm with  Hobbes  is  a  generic  term  for  any  mental  presentation, 
synonyniQus__Brith  ihe  term  idea  in  its  common  meanmg ;  as  for 
instance,  (M.  T  92).  "I  say,  therefore,  there  would  remain  to 
^that  man  ideas  of  the  world,  and  of  all  such  bodies  as  he  had, 

,  before  their  annihilation,  seen  with  his  eyes,  or  perceived  by 
any  other  sense;  that  is  to  say,  the  memory  and  imagination  ot 
magnitudes,  motions,  sounds,   colours,  &c.  as  also  of  their  or- 

,  dcr  and  parts.     All  which  things,  though  they  be  nothing  but 

(  ideas  and  phantasms,  happening  internally  to  him  that  imagineth ; 

(yet  they  will  appear  as  if  they  were  external,  and  not  at  all 
depending  upon  any  power  of  the  mind."  Also  (M.  I,  389). 
"In  the  first  place,  therefore,  the  causes  of  our  perception,  that 
is,  the  causes  of  those  ideas  and  phantasms  which  are  perpetual- 
ly generated  within  us  whilst  we  make  use  of  our  senses,  are  to 
be  enquired  into."  Occasionally  the  term  is  equivalent  to  after- 
image; as  for  instance,  (M.  IV,  11-12),  "There  is  yet  another 
kind  of  imagination,  which  for  clearness  contendeth  with  sense, 
as  well  as  a  dream;  and  that  is,  when  the  action  of  sense  hath 
been  long  or  vehement:  and  the  experience  thereof  is  more  fre- 
quent in  the  sense  of  seeing,  than  the  rest.  An  example  whereof 
is,  the  image  remaining  before  the  eye  after  looking  upon  the  sun. 
Also,  those  little  images  that  appear  before  the  eyes  in  the  dark 
(whereof  I  think  every  man  hath  experience,  but  they  most  of 
all,  who  are  timorous  or  superstitious)  are  examples  of  the 
same.  And  these,  for  distinction-sake,  may  be  called  phantasms." 
Compare  also  below  the  Leviathan,  p.  105,  where  speaking  of 
the  same  phenomena,  he  says  that  this  "kind  of  fancy  hath  no 
particular  name."    See  also  the  Index. 


1 '  1 


I 


such  names  as  are  in  the  former  definition,  and  so  pro- 
Sed  Sy  a  continual  resolution  till  we  come  to  a  simple 
Tame  that  is.  to  the  most  general  or  --^ ---;'-- 
of  that  kind ;  and  if  after  all  this,  the  truth  or  falsit> 
1  eo    be  not  evident,  y.  must  search  it  out  by  ph.tos- 
ophy  and  ratiocination,  beginning  from  defimtions.    For  ) 
/SeSioposition^mnversally  true,  is  eithe^ad^n. Uon^ 
(  or  ^rti^didtion.  or  the  evidence  of  U  depends  upon  ) 

I  definitions. 

II     That  fault  of  a  syllogism  which  lies  hid  in  the 
form  thereof,  will  always  be  found  either  in  the  ,mph- 
cation  of  the  copula  with  one  of  the  terms,  or  -n  the 
eaXocation  of  Tome  word ;  and  in  either  of  these  v  ays 
Se  I wmbe  four  terms,  which  (as  I  have  shewn)  canno 
STn  a  true  syllogism.    Now  the  implication  of    he 
oHa  wUh  either  te^n.  is  easily -detect^  by  reducmg 
the  propositions  to  plain  and  clear  predication,  as  (for 
example)  if  any  man  should  ai^e  thus, 
The  hand  toucheth  the  pen, 
The  pen  toucheth  the  paper, 
Therefore,  The  hand  toucheth  the  paper; 
the  fallacy  will  easily  appear  by  reducing  it,  thus: 
The  hand,  is,  touching  the  pen. 
The  pen,  is,  touching  the  paper, 
Therefore,  The  hand,  is,  touching  the  paper; 
where  there  are  manifestly  these  four  terms  Jj..  ha^ 
touching  the  pen,  the  pen,  and  touching  the  paper     But 
the  danger  of  being  deceived  by  sophisms  of  this  kind 
does  noT  seem  to  be  so  great,  as  that  I  need  msist  longer 
upon  them. 

12  And  though  there  may  be  fallacy  in  equivocal 
terms,  yet  in  those  that  be  manifestly  such  there  is  none 
S   nor  in  metaphors,  for  they  profess  the  transfemng 


^ 


/ 


f 


44  ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

of  names  from  one  thing  to  another.  Nevertheless, 
sometimes  equivocals  (and  those  not  very  obscure)  may 
deceive;  as  in  this  argumentation: — It  belongs  to  meta- 
physics to  treat  of  principles;  but  the  first  principle  of 
all,  is,  that  the  same  thing  cannot  both  exist  and  not  ex- 
ist at  the  same  time;  and  therefore  it  belongs  to  meta- 
physics to  treat  whether  the  same  thing  may  both  exist 
and  not  exist  at  the  same  time;  where  the  fallacy  lies  in 
the  equivocation  of  the  word  principle ;  for  whereas  Aris- 
totle in  the  beginning  of  his  Metaphysics,  says,  that  the 
treating  of  principles  belongs  to  primary  science,  he  un- 
derstands by  principles,  causes  of  things,  and  certain  ex- 
istences which  he  calls  primary;  but  where  he  says  a 
primary  proposition  is  a  principle,  by  principle,  there,  he 
means  the  beginning  and  cause  of  knowledge,  that  is,  the 
understanding  of  words,  which,  if  any  man  want,  he  is 
incapable  of  learning. 

13.  But  the  captions  of  sophists  and  sceptics,  by 
which  they  were  wont,  of  old,  to  deride  and  oppose  truth, 
were  faulty  for  the  most  part,  not  in  the  form,  but  in  the 
matter  of  syllogism ;  and  they  deceived  not  others  oftener 
than  they  were  themselves  deceived.  For  the  force  of 
that  famous  argument  of  Zeno  against  motion,  consisted 
in  this  proposition,  whatsoever  may  be  divided  into  parts, 
infinite  in  number,  the  same  is  infinite;  which  he,  with- 
out doubt,  thought  to  be  true,  yet  nevertheless  is  false. 
For  to  be  divided  into  infinite  parts,  is  nothing  else  but 
to  be  divided  into  as  many  parts  as  any  man  will.  But 
it  is  not  necessary  that  a  line  should  have  parts  infinite  in 
number,  or  be  infinite,  because  I  can  divide  and  sub- 
divide it  as  often  as  I  please ;  for  how  many  parts  soever 
I  make,  yet  their  numbe):  is  finite;  but  because  he  that 
says  parts,  simply,  without  adding  how  many,  does  not 
limit  any  number,  but  leaves  it  to  the  determination  of  the 


OF  ERRING.  FALSITY.  AND  CAPTIONS 


45 


hearer,  therefore  we  say  commonly,  a  "- ^^^^^f '^"^ 
i«finitelv  •  which  cannot  be  true  m  any  other  sense. 
'"' Ant 'tht  much  may  suffice  -cernrng  syllo^sm^ 
t..  I,  •  oc  \f  were  the  first  pace  towards  philosophy, 
,^';ti;h'l  aee:::d%:  ^uch  .!■.  necessary  to  teach  any 
ma^  from  whence  all  true  argumentation  has  .ts  force^ 
A^  o  SlTrge  this  treatise  with  all  that  may  be  heaped 
tgtSr  wouTd  be  as  superfluous,  as  if  one  shouW  (as^^ 
sS  bef;re)  give  a  young  child  precepts  for  Ae  t^chmg 

of  him  to  go;  for  the  art  of  /-^°7f/^J°*Xro 
learned  by  precepts  as  by  practice,  and  ^y  *e  r^adm^  ot 
those  books  in  which  the  conclusions  -^^^^^^^j 
Svere  demonstration.    And  so  I  pass  on  to  the  way 
philosophy,  that  is.  to  the  method  of  study. 


OF  METHOP 


47 


1 


CHAPTER  VI. 


OF  METHOD. 


I.  Method  and  science  defined.— 2.  It  is  more  easily  known  con- 
cerning singular,  than  universal  things,  that  they  are;  and  con- 
trarily,  it  is  more  easily  known  concerning  universal,  than 
singular  things,  why  they  are,  or  what  are  their  causes. — 
3.  What  it  is  philosophers  seek  to  know. — 4.  The  first  part,  by 
which  principles  are  found  out,  is  purely  analytical. — 5.  The 
highest  causes,  and  most  universal  in  every  kind,  are  known  by 
themselves. — 6.  Method  from  principles  found  out,  tending  to 
science  simply,  what  it  is. — 7.  That  method  of  civil  and  natural 
science,  which  proceeds  from  sense  to  principles,  is  analytical ; 
and  again,  that,  which  begins  at  principles,  is  synthetical. — 
8.  The  method  of  searching  out,  whether  any  thing  propounded 
be  matter  or  accident. — 9.  The  method  of  seeking  whether 
any  accident  be  in  this,  or  in  that  subject. — 10.  The  method  of 
searching  after  the  cause  of  any  effect  propounded. — 11.  Words 
serve  to  invention,  as  marks;  to  demonstration,  as  signs. — 
12.  The  method  of  demonstration  is  synthetical. — 13.  Definitions 
only  are  primary  and  universal  propositions. — 14.  The  nature 
and  definition  of  a  definition. — 15.  The  properties  of  a  definition. 
— 16.  The  nature  of  a  demonstration. — 17.  The  properties*  of  a 
demonstration,  and  order  of  things  to  be  demonstrated. — 18. 
— The  faults  of  a  demonstration. — 19.  Why  the  analytical  meth- 
od of  geometricians  cannot  be  treated  of  in  this  place. 


I.  For  the  understanding  of  method,  it  will  be  neces- 
sary for  me  to  repeat  the  definition  of  philosophy,  deliv- 
ered above  (Chap,  i,  art.  2,)  in  this  manner,  Philosophy 
is  the  knowledge  we  acquire,  by  true  ratiocination,  of 
appearances,  or  apparent  effects,  from  the  knowledge  we 
have  of  some  possible  production  or  generation  of  the 
same;  and  of  such  production,  cts  has  been  or  may  be, 
from  the  knowledge  we  have  of  the  effects.  Method, 
therefore,  in  the  study  of  philosophy,  is  the  shortest  way 
of  finding  out  effects  by  their  known  causes,  or  of^causes 
by  their  known  effects.    But  we  are  then  said  to  ktfow 


<L. 


r*l 


f 

O     L  f 


^>''*t 


T 


any  effect,  when  wc  know   thai  there  he  causes  of  the 
same,  and  in  what  subject  those  causes  are,  and  .»  what 
subject  they  produce  that  effect,  and  in  what  manner  they^.  ^, 
2k  the  sL.    And  this  is  the  science  of  causes   or  ,. 

as  they  call  it.  of  the  «.-..     All  other  science,  which  .s  _■     ,^, 
called  the    ««,   is  either  perception  by  sense,  or  the  mi- 
ration,  or   memory    remaining    after    such    percep- 

*'°"The  first  beginnings,  therefore,  of  knowledge,  are  the  / 

phantasms  of  sense  and  imagination;  and  that  there  be  'O ^ 
Lh  phanti^^s  we  know  well  enough  by  n^t"- ;  bu  to 
know  why  they  be,  or  from  what  causes  they  proceed, 
is  the  work  of  ratiocination;  which  consists  (as  is  said 
above,  in  the  ist  Chapter.  Art.  2)  in  compos^t^on,^^ 
division  or  resolution.  There  is  therefore  no  method 
by  which  we  find  out  the  causes  of  things,  but  is  either 
compositive  or  resolutive,  or  partly  composUtve,  and 
partly  resolutive.  And  the  resolutive  is  commonly  called 
imlytical  method,  as  the  compositive  is  called  synthet^ 

"  '2  It  is  common  to  all  sorts  of  method,  to  proceed 
from  known  things  to  unknown ;  and  this  is  manifest 
from  the  cited  definition  of  philosophy.  But  in  knowl- 
edge by  sense,  the  whole  object  is  more  known,  than  any 
pa^TtfaTTs  when  we  see  a  man,  the  conception  or 
t  * 

„  V     •  (~i,    I    rsntr  I    also  the  following  from 

1  Compare   above   Ch.   1; /^'.Vere  be  two  kinds  of  knowl- 

and  the  latter  experience  men  have   from  ^he  prop^rj^^ 
names  in  language:  and  all  experience  bemg,  as  I  have  saia,  du 
remembrance,  all  knowledge  is  remembrance. 


^1,*^-V<^ 


X 


vf 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


48 


whole  idea  of  that  man  is  first  orvmore  known,  than  the 
particular  ideas  of  his  being  figurate,  animate,  and  ration- 
al; that  is,  we  first  see  the  whole  man,  and  take  notice 
of  his  being,  before  we  observe  in  him  those  other  par- 
ticulars. And  therefore  in  any  knowledge  of  the  ore,  or 
that  any  tiling  is,  the  beginning  of  our  search  is  from 
the  whole  idea;  and  contrarily,  in  our  knowledge  of  the 
9i6Tt,  or  of  the  causes  of  any  thing,  that  is,  in  the 
sciences,  we  have  more  knowledge  of  the  causes  of  the 
parts  than  of  the  whole.  For  the  cause  of  the  whole 
is  compounded  of  the  causes  of  the  parts ;  but  it  is  neces- 
sary that  we  know  the  things  that  are  to  be  compounded, 
before  we  can  know  the  whole  compound.  Now,  by 
parts,  I  do  not  here  mean  parts  of  the  thing  itself,  but 
parts  of  its  nature ;  as,  by  the  parts  of  man,  I  do  not  un- 
*«/  A*^i***^**  ^crstand  his  head,  his  shoulders,  his  arms,  &c.  but  his 


OF  METHOD 


49 


'Jj^  /J^ 


^J^'M^  . 


figure,  quantity,  motion,  sense,  reason,  and  the  like; 
which  accidents  being  compounded  or  put  together,  con- 
stitute the  whole  nature  of  man,  but  not  the  man  him- 
self. And  this  is  the  meaning  of  that  common  saying, 
namely,  that  some  things  are  more  known  to  us,  others 
more  known  to  nature;  for  I  do  not  think  that  they, 
which  so  distinguish,  mean  that  something  is  known  to 
nature,  which  is  known  to  no  man;  and  therefore,  by 
those  things,  that  are  more  known  to  us,  we  are  to  un- 
derstand things  we  take  notice  of  by  our  senses,  and, 
by  more  known  to  nature,  those  we  acquire  the  knowl- 
edge of  by  reason ;  for  in  this  sense  it  is,  that  the  whole, 
that  is,  those  things  that  have  universal  names,  (which, 
for  brevity's  sake,  I  call  universal)  are  more  known  to  us 
than  the  parts,  that  is,  such  things  as  have  names  less  uni- 
versal, (which  I  therefore  call  singular)  ;  and  the  causes 
of  the  parts  are  more  known  to  nature  than  the  cause  of 
the  whole ;  that  is,  universals  than  singulars. 


^ 


O-^fcr^i^ 


,     In  the   study  of  philosophy,  men  search  after    ^ 
vL  dthlr  staply  or  indefinitely;  that  is.  to  know  as 
SrasC^rw^thoutpropoun^^^^^^^ 
United  question  ;/or  they  mqu^en^^^^^^^^  ^^^  ^^ 

determined  appearance    or  enravour  to 
certainty  of  something  in  question,  as  what  is  the  « 
of  S?  of  heat,  of  gravity,  of  a  figure  Vro?onM^^^ 

S^to  this  variety  of  things  in  question,  sometimes  the 
Zi;iXetHoIi.  to  be  used,  and  sometimes  the  syn- 

thetical.  rrr^^^^^ 

a     But  to  those  that  search  after  science  mdefinite^  ^ 
whith  consists  in  the  ^nowledf  of  J^e  caus^^^^^^^^^^       Jl^u^A 
things,  as  far  forth  as  it  may  ''-"-";^' ^^^^^^^^^^^  «-^^ 

singular  things  are  compounded  of  ^^t  ^^T'/kn^the 
saliiimpl^ngs)  it  is  -"^^^JJ^^J^^J^^^^^  are  r.. 
caiHirdT universal  things,  or  of  such  ^^^^^'^-^^^t--:      - 
common  to  all  bodies,  that  is_,  to  all  "1^"^ '  ^^  ^5^ 
^novTSe  causes  of  singular  things,  that  is,  of  those 

SdtntlbrSone  thifg  is  ^^^^Xtt^^^- 
other.    And.  again,  they  "^"^^ ^^^^^V^f ,1°!'  "£e- 
sal  things  are.  before  they  can  know  their  causey.    More 
over,  seeing  universal  things  are  confined  m  the  nat^e 
Ts  ngulafthings.  the  knowledge  of  the"  isjo  be  a 
quired  byle^n,  that  is,  by  ^-^^'''^''- .^'X^S^^t 
Lre  be  propounded  a  concej^^  ,°;:l^"i:  to""solved  .- 
n^ilnr  thine-    as  of  a  square,  this  square  is  lu  i    — 

So  a  S  tcrmnatJ^itH  a  -'-" --^^  ^71 
and  straight  lines  and  right  angles.  For  by  this  resolu 
Sn  we  have  these  things  universal  or  agreeable  to  all 


«  1 


^tu.4t^ 


^•^ 


''f/^ 


/ 


►V*' 

« 

^.^.-..^^v 

^J^ 


u 


.v*»--t^ 


so 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


/ 


\ 


^^Vv^ 


matter,  namelv,  line,  plain,  (which  contains  superficies) 
terminated,  angle,  straightness,  rectitude,  and  equality; 
and  if  we  can  find  out  the  causes  of  these,  we  may  com- 
pound them  altogether  into  the  cause  of  a  square. 
Again,  if  any  man  propound  to  himself  the  conception 
of  gold,  he  may,  by  resolving,  come  to  the  ideas  of  solid, 
visible, 'heavy,  (that  is,  tending  to  the  centre  of  the  earth, 
or  downwards)  and  many  other  more  universal  than  gold 
itself ;  and  these  he  may  resolve  again,  till  he  come  to 
such  things  as  are  most  universal.  /And  in  this  manner, 
by  resolving  continually,  we  may  come  to  know  what 
those  things  are,  whose  causes  being  first  known  sever- 
ally, and  afterwards  compounded,  bring  us  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  singular  things.  \  I  conclude,  therefore,  that  the 
method  of  attaining  to  the  universal  knowledge  of 
things,  is  purely  analytical. 

5.  But  the  causes_of  universal  things  (of  those,  at 
least,  that  have  any  cause)  are  manifest  oMhemselves, 
or  (as  they  say  commonly)  known  to  nature ;  so  that  they 
need  no  method  at  all ;  for  they  have  all  but  one  universal 
cause,  which  is  motion.  For  the  variety  of  all  figures 
arises  out  of  the  variety  of  those  motions  by  which  they 
are  made ;  and  motion  cannot  be  understood  to  have  any 
other  cause  besides  motion ;  nor  has  the  variety  of  those 
things  we  perceive  by  sense,  as  of  colours,  sounds,  sav- 
ours, &c.  any  other  cause  than  m.otion,  residing  partly  in 
the  objects  that  work  upon  our  senses,  and  partly  in  our- 
selves, in  such  manner,  as  that  it  is  manifestly  some  kind 
of  motion,  though  we  cannot,  without  ratiocination,  come 
to  know  what  kind.  /  For  though  many  cannot  understand 
till  it  be  in  some  sort  demonstrated  to  them,  that  all 
mutation  consists  in  motion;  yet  this  happens  not  from 
any  obscurity  in  the  thing  itself,  (for  it  is  not  intelligible 
that  anything  can  depart  either  from  rest,  or  from  the 


I 


' 


OF  METHOD 


SI 


.•       ;t  has    except  by  motion),  but  either  by  having 
motion  it  has,  except  uy  /  former  opinions 

their  natural  discourse  ^''""P^tf^^for  1^^^  they  do 
received  from  their  masters,  or  else  for  ^is.  mai  t  y 
not  at  all  bend  their  mind  to  the  enquiring  out  of  truth 
fi  Bv  the  knowledge  therefore.oluniversals  and  o. 
By  *^  ™  „°  the  first  ^ri^les  by  which  wc 
their  causes  (^^^/^  .*';,\ave  in  the  first  place  their 
know  the  5««v>fH«ings;  we  n  .„oiication  of  our 

definitionCr^h  are  nortui^^^-^;^^  ^  ^^^^ 
simple  concept>ons.)     For  cxamp  ^^  ^^.^  ^^^^.^.^^^ 

SSSa  i^-S  .-.  possessed  or  meS  a,e,uately  \ 
place  IS  mai    y  conceives  motion  aright, 

'' r^ut  Lw  tlS  «:o;Ln  «  iUe  privation  of  one 
S  an^\X.-'-«  of  another.    In  the  next  place 

a  straight  line.  -^  ^^a^^a  c.cu^^  w  ^  ^^^^ 

what  draws  and  by  what  wa)    w  ^^^^^^^^^  _^  ^^^ 

LX :Lsrin"a  ::^r  ^zz^t^:^ 

ider  nothing  in  it  besides  its  "potion;  and  -  ^e  Pr^^^ 
cntly  that  this  makes  a  line,  or  length   nexyhat 

tion  of  a  long  body  P-duce^'  ^^^^  what  the  eflects  of 
ficies ;  and  so  forwards,  till  we  ^ee  w  ^ 

simple  motion  are;  and  then,  in  ^l^^^^J^^^^^r., 
observe  what  proceeds  fron^  ^J^  f^^ions,  and  what  ef- 

subtraction,  and  division,  of  ^^se  motio    ,  _     ^^^e; 

fects,  what  figures,  and  wha    P/^P^J^l^^J^/p.rt  of 

from  which  kind  of  contemplation  sprung  that  p 

philosophy  which  is  called  geometry. 


XX 


'^ 


tc 


KS*^-*- 


'c^ 


^ 


p  ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

From  this  consideration  of  what  is  produced  by  sim- 
ple motion,  we  are  to  pass  to  the  consideration  of  what 
effects  one  body  moved  worketh  upon  another;  and  be- 
cause there  may  be  motion  in  all  the  several  parts  of  a 
body,  yet  so  as  that  the  whole  body  remain  still  in  the 
same  place,  we  must  enquire  first,  what  motion  causcth 
such  and  such  motion  in  the  whole,  that  is,  when  one 
body  invades  another  body  which  is  either  at  rest  or  in 
motion,  what  way,  and  with  what  swiftness,  the  mvaded 
body  shall  move;  and,  again,  what  motion  this  second 
body  will  generate  in  a  third,  and  so  forwards.  From 
which  contemplation  shall  be  drawn  that  part  of  philos- 
ophy which  treats  of  motion. 

In  the  third  place  we  must  proceed  to  the  enquiry  of 
such  effects  as  are  made  by  the  motion  of  the  parts  of 
any  body,  as,  how  it  comes  to  pass,  that  things  when 
they  are  the  same,  yet  seem  not  to  be  the  same,  but 
changed.  And  here  the  things  we  search  after  are  sen- 
sibl^  qualities,  such  as  light,  colour,  transparency,  opa- 
city, sounds  odour,  savour,  heat,  cold,  and  the  like ;  which 
because  they  cannot  be  known  till  we  know  the  causes 
of  sense  itself,  therefore  the  consideration  of  the  causes 
of  seeing,  hearing,  smelling,  tasting,  and  touching,  be- 
longs to  this  third  place;  and  all  those  qualities  and 
changes,  above  mentioned,  are  to  be  referred  tojhfi. fourth. 
,  /place ;  which  two  considerations  comprehend  that  part  of 
^  philosophy  which  is  called  physics.  And  in  these  four 
parts  is  contained  whatsoever  in  natural  philosophy  may 
be  explicated  by  demonstration,  properly  so  called.  For 
if  a  cause  were  to  be  rendered  of  natural  appearances  in 
special,  as,  what  are  the  motions  and  influences  of  the 
heavenly  bodies,  and  of  their  parts,  the  reason  hereof 
must  either  be  drawn  from  the  parts  of  the  sciences 
above  mentioned,  or  no  reason  at  all  will  be  given,  but 
all  left  to  uncertain  conjecture. 


r 


OF  METHOD 


SS 


After  physics  we  must  come  to  moral  philosophy;  m 
which  we  are  to  consider  the   motions  ofthe_mmd, 
namely,  appetite,  aversion,  love,  benevolence,  hope,  fear 
anger,  emulation,  envy,  &c,;  what  causes  they  have,  and 
^of  what  they  be  causes.    And  the  reason  why  these  are  t 
to  be  considered  after  physics  is,  that  they  have  their 
causes  in  sense  andjmagination,  which  are  the  subject  of  ^ 
physical  coTitiiii^lation.    Also  the  reason,  why  all  these 
things^e  to  be  searched  after  in  the  order  above-said, 
is    that  physics  cannot  be  understood,  except  we  know 
fi^st  what  motions  arejn  the.sipallest  parts  of^bodies ;  nor  | 
such  mod^n  of  parts,  till  we  know  whatJUs  thatmakes 
another  body  move ;  nor  this,  till  we  know^w^atsunple 
motiolTv^  eff^    And  because  all  appearance  of  things 
to  seii^e  is'd^termined,  and  made  to  be  of  such  and  such 
quality  and  quantity  by  compounded  motions,  every  one 
of  which  has  a  certain  degree  of  velocity,  and  a  certam 
and  determined  way;  therefore,  in  the  first  place  we  are 
to  search  out  the  ways  of  motion  simply  (in  which  geom- 
etry consists)  ;  next  the  wa^s  oi  sucIl generated  motions 
as  are  manifest;  and,  lastly,  the  ways  of  internal  and  in- 
Msible  motions  (which  is  the  enquiry  of  natural  philos-  < 
ophers).    And,  therefore,  they  that  study  natural  philoso- 
phy, study  in  vain,  except  they  begin  at  geometry;  and 
such  writers  or  disputers  thereof,  as  are  ignorant  of 
geometry,  do  but  make  their  readers  and  hearers  lose 
their  time. 

7  Civil  and  moral  philosophy  do  not  so  adhere  to 
one  another,  but  that  they  may  be  severed.  For  the 
causes  of  the  motions  of  the  mind  are  known,  not  only 
-by  ratiocination,  but  also  by  the  experience  of  every  man 
that  takes  the  pains  to  observe  those  motions  withm  him- 
^  self.  And,  therefore,  not  only  they  that  have  attuned 
the  knowledge  of  the  passions  and  perturbations  of  the 


1 


t 


54 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


mind,  by  the  synthetical  method,  and  from  the  very  first 
principles  of  philosophy,  may  by  proceeding  in  the  same 
way,  come  to  the  causes  and  jiecessity  of  constituting 
commonwealths,  and  to  get  the  knowledge  of  what  is  nat- 
ural  right,  and  what  are  civil  duties ;  and,  in  every  kind 
of  government,  what  arejfie  rights  of  the  commonwealth, 
and  all  other  knowledge  appertaining  to  civil  philosophy ; 
for  this  reason,  that  the  principles  of  the  politics  consist 
in  the  knowledge  of  the  motions  of  the  mind,  and  the 
knowledge  of  these  motions  from  the  knowledge  of 
sense  and  imagination;  but  even  they  also  that  have 
\  not  learned  the  first  part  of  philosophy,  namely, 
geometry^  and  physics,  may,  notwithstanding,  attain  the 


\ 


principles  of  civil  philosophy,  by  the  analytical  method. 
For  if  a  question  be  propounded,  as,  whether  such  an  ac- 
tion be  just  or  unjust;  if  that  unjust  be  resolved  into  fact 
against  law,  and  that  notion  law  into  the  command  of  him 
or  them  that  have  coercive  power;  and  that  power  be  de- 
rived from  the  wills  of  men  that  constitute  such  power, 
to  the  end  they  may  live  in  peace,  they  may  at  last  come 
to  this,  that  the  appetites  of  men  and  the  passions  of  their 
minds  are  such,  that,  unless  they  be  restrained  by  some 
power,  they  will  always  be  making  war  upon  one  another ; 
which  may  be  known  to  be  so  by  any  man's  experience, 
that  will  but  examine  his  own  mind.  And,  therefore, 
from  hence  he  may  proceed,  by  compounding,  to  the  de- 
termination of  the  justice  or  injustice  of  any  propounded 
action.  So  that  it  is  manifest,  by  what  has  been  said, 
that  the  method  of  philosophy,  to  such  as  seek  science 
simply,  without  propounding  to  themselves  the  solution 

iof  any  particular  question,  is  partly  analytical,  and  partly 
synthetical ;  namely,  that  which  proceeds  from  sense  to 
the  invention  of  principles,  analytical ;  and  the  rest  syn- 
thetical. 


OF  METHOD  » 

8     To  those  that  seek  the  cause  of  some  certain  and 
propounded  appearance  or  effect,  it  happens,  sometimes. 
JhThey  know  not  whether  the  thing,  whose  cause  « 
lought  after,  be  matter  or  body,  or  some  accident  of  » 
Wv     For  tkough  in  geometry,  when  the  cause  is  sought 
Tmaenitude,  or  proportion,  or  figure,  it  be  certainly 
knownC tese   things,  namely  ma^itude,  .roporUon 
andlgure.  are  accidents ;  yet  in  naturaLphjlosophy,  ^^here  ) 
aU  quStiom  are  concerning  the  cajis^ofthejh^tasms 
of  sensTSkThiHpnTis  not  so  easy  to  discern  between 
the-^ferSimselves,  from  which  those  phantoms  pro- 
feed   and  the  appearances  of  those  things  to  the  sense; 
whth  have  deceived  many,  especially  when  the  phar. 
Tasms  have  been  made  by  light,    ^^^^^^'^^f^^ 
that  looks  upon  the  sun,  has  a  certain  shining  dea  of  the 
magnlde  of  about  a  foot  over,  and  this  he  .^Us  Ae  sun. 
ToSh  he  know  the  sun  to  be  truly  a  great  deal  bigger; 
and.ln  like  manner,  the  phantasm  of  the  same  thing  ap- 
L;s  sometimes  round,  by  being  seen  afar  off,  and  some- 
Snes  square,  by  being  nearer.    Whereupon  it  may  well 
Sedoubted,  wlfether  that  P^anta-  be  matter   or  some 
body  natural,  or  only  some  accident  of  a  body .  in  t^e 
examination  of  which  doubt  we  may  «>«-  A'^^  "^^^^^ 
The  properties  of  matter  and  accidents  already  found 
out  bv  us  by  the  synthetical  method,  from  their  defim- 
ti^s  'arTio  be  compared  with  the  idea  we  have  before  us ; 

and  if  it  agree  with  the  properties  «! -f  -  ^^f  iht" 
it  is  a  body;  otherwise  it  is  an  accident.  Seem^  Aere^ 
fore,  matter  cannot  by  any  endeavor  of  ours  be  either 
made  or  destroyed,  or  increased  or  dimmished  or  moved 
out  of  its  place,  whereas  that  idea  appears,  vamshes  is 
increased  and  diminished,  and  moved  hither  and  thither 
at  pleasure;  we  may  certainly  conclude  that  it  ,s  not  a 
body,  but  an  accident  only.  And  this  method  is  syn- 
thetical. 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


9.  But  if  there  be  a  doubt  made  concerning  the  sub- 
ject of  any  known  accident  (for  this  may  be  doubted  some- 
times, as  in  the  precedent  example,  doubt  may  be  made  in 
what  subject  that  splendour  and  apparent  magnitude  of 
the  sun  is),  then  our  enquiry  must  proceed  in  this  manner. 
First,  matter  in  general  must  be  divided  into  parts,  as, 
into  object,  medium,  and  the  sentient  itself,  or  such  other 
parts  as  seem  most  conformable  to  the  thing  propounded. 
Next,  these  parts  are  severally  to  be  examined  how  they 
agree  with  the  definition  of  the  subject;  and  such  of 
them  as  are  not  capable  of  that  accident  are  to  be  rejected. 
For  example,  if  by  any  true  ratiocination  the  sun  be 
found  to  be  greater  than  its  apparent  magnitude,  then 
that  magnitude  is  not  in  the  sun ;  if  the  sun  be  in  one  de- 
termined straight  line,  and  one  determined  distance,  and 
the  magnitude  and  splendour  be  seen  in  more  lines  and 
distances  than  one,  as  it  is  in  reflection  or  refraction,  then 
neither  that  splendour  nor  apparent  magnitude  are  in  the 
sun  itself,  and,  therefore,  the  body  of  the  sun  cannot  be 
the  subject  of  that  splendour  and  magnitude.  And  for 
the  same  reasons  the  air  and  other  parts  will  be  rejected, 
till  at  last  nothing  remain  which  can  be  the  subject  of  that 
splendour  and  magnitude  but  the  sentient  itself.  And  this 
method,  in  regard  the  subject  is  divided  into  parts,  is 
analytical ;  and  in  regard  the  properties,  both  of  the  sub- 
ject and  accident,  are  compared  with  the  accident  con- 
cerning whose  subject  the  enquiry  is  made,  it  is  syn- 
thetical. 

10.  But  when  we  seek  after  the  cause  of  any  pro- 
pounded effect,  we  must  in  the  first  place  get  into  our 
mind  an  exact  notion  or  idea  of  that  which  we  call 
cause,  namely,  that  a  cause  is  the  sum  or  a^gre^ate  of  all 
such  accidents,  both  in  the  agents  and  the  patient,  as  con- 
cur  to    the   producing    of   the    effect    propounded;    all 


OF  METHOD 


57 


nrhich  existing  together,  it  cannot  be  understood  but 

tithe  etc^^^^^^^^       «-'^^  ^^^-'  ''  '''''  ''  ^""  T    ' 
tisti  Inyone  of  them  be  absent.^    This  bemg  known, 

n  the  next  place  we  must  examine  singly  every  acci- 
dent that  accompanies  or  precedes  the  effect,  as  far  forth 

~    .On  Hobbe7doctnne  of  causation   compare  the   following 

selections:    Elements  0    Philosophy.    (MI,  1201.; 

"  '^A  body  is  said  to  work  upon  or  a.^  tha^^^^^^^^^^^ 

thin,  to  another  body    wh^^^^^^^^^  ,^ 

some  accident  in  it .  ana .'"«  """i       ...  ;     to  have  something 

erated  or  destroyed  is  said  t°fXn  one  body  by  putting  for- 

done  to  it  by  another  body :  as  ^n"f„  "f^^j/is'^  called  the 

other,  their  action  and  passion  ^^^J^^^^f  ly°ng  betwixt  the 
otherwise.  meduitc;_  and  '"^'^^J''°}^Z^U^t\^!ith  then  itself 
agent  and  patient  is  '=°" '8"°"|  ^^ n^^;^^^^^^^^^  of  the  body 
both  an  aeent  and  a  patient .  »"  a«"^  '^  ti^„t  ;„  aspect  of 
next  after  it,  upon  wh.'*  "' J^^feu^  sulers     Also,  if  many 

the  body  next  ^^^f?  '*'  *~"  two  A''^  "^  ""'^  *°  °"'  *"^ 
bodies  be  so  O'-'J"'"!  that  every  two  wmcn  ^^^^  ^^^ 

^L^arffaVlltTal^S^anlL  first  is  an  agent 
only,  and  the  last  a  patient  only.  determined  or  ccr- 

it  is  a  body,  but  because  such  a  XLdLsainS   would  produce 
wise  all  agents,  seeing  they  f  ^/»  X"  the  fire   for  example, 
like  effects  in  all  patients     A"<1  th^^j^J^'^^aJ^e  it  is  hot;  nor 
does  not  warm,  because  it  is  ''^^P^y-jX  because  it  is  a  body,, 
does  one  body  .put  f°^*?rd  another  tod^  that  other  body.  rthe> 
but  because  it  is  "oved  .p  rte  place  of  that  o     ^^^^.y    ^^^. 

cause,    therefore,    of    an    f  "*"/     tients :  which  when  they  are 
dents  both  in  the  agents  and  in  the  patients ,  wn  c  ^ 

all  Pre->;J.,f„y«-*du«l"anTthat\cciLt"^ither  of  the  agent  , 
wanting,  it  is  not  proaucea ,  anu  produced,   is 


$8 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


as  it  seems  to  conduce  in  any  manner  to  the  production 
of  the  same,  and  see  whether  the  propounded  effect  may 
be  conceived  to  exist,  without  the  existence  of  any  of 
those  accidents;  and  by  this  means  separate  such  acci- 
dents, as  do  not  concur,  from  such  as  concur  to  produce 
the  said  effect ;  which  being  done,  we  are  to  put  together 
the  concurring  accidents,  and  consider  whether  we  can 
possibly  conceive,  that  when  these  are  all  present,  the 
effect  propounded  will  not  follow ;  and  if  it  be  evident 
that  the  effect  will  follow,  then  that  aggregate  of  acci- 


cidents  both  of  the  agents  how  many  soever  they  be,  and  of 
the  patient,  put  together;  which  when  they  are  all  supposed  to 
be  present,  it  cannot  be  understood  but  that  the  effect  is  pro- 
duced at  the  same  instant;  and  if  any  one  of  them  be  wanting,  it 
cannot  be  understood  but  that  the  effect  is  not  produced. 

"The  aggregate  of  accidents  in  the  agent  or  agents,  requisite 
for  the  production  of  the  effect,  the  effect  being  produced,  is  called 
the  efficient  cause  thereof;  and  the  aggregate  of  accidents  in  the 
patient,  the  effect  being  produced,  is  usually  called  the  mater- 
tal  cause;  I  say  the  effect  being  produced;  for  where  there  is 
no  effect,  there  can  be  no  cause;  for  nothing  can  be  called  a 
cause,  where  there  is  nothing  that  can  be  called  an  effect.  But 
the  efficient  and  material  causes  are  both  but  partial  causes,  or 
parts  of  that  cause,  which  in  the  next  precedent  article  I  called 
an  entire  cause.  And  from  hence  it  is  manifest,  that  the  effect  we 
expect,  though  the  agents  be  not  defective  on  their  part,  may 
nevertheless  be  frustrated  by  a  defect  in  the  patient;  and  when 
the  patient  is  sufficient,  by  a  defect  in  the  agents. 

"An  entire  cause  is  always  sufficient  for  the  production  of 
its  effect,  if  the  effect  be  at  all  possible.  For  let  any  effect 
whatsoever  be  propounded  to  be  produced;  if  the  same  hji  pro- 
duced, it  is  manifest  that  the  cause  which  oroduced  it  was  a 
sufficient  cause ;  but  if  it  be  not  produced,  and  yet  be  possible, 
it  is  evident  that  something  was  wanting  either  in  some  agent, 
or  in  the  patient,  without  which  it  could  not  be  produced ;  that 
is,  that  some  accident  was  wanting  which  was  requisite  for  its 
production;  and  therefore,  that  cause  was  not  entire,  which  is 
contrary  to  what  was  supposed. 

"It  follows  also  from  hence,  that  in  whatsoever  instant  the 
cause  is  entire,  in  the  same  instant  the  effect  is  produced.  For 
if  it  be  not  produced,  something  is  still  wanting.,  which  is 
requisite  for  the  production  of  it;  and  therefore  the  cause  was 
not  entire,  as  was  supposed. 


I 


Of  METHOD 


59 


dents  is  the  entire  cause,  otherw.se  not;  but  we  must  strfl 
search  out  and  put  together  other  acadents.  ^For  ex- 
amS  if  the  cause  of  light  be  propounded  to  be  sough 
^ut     first,   we   examine   things   without   us,    and   find 
tot  whensoever  light  appears,  there  is  some  pnncpal 


) 

I 

\ 


^  .-And  .«I.J  .  "X7.=  't»  tf~!  £.'«; 

th-iT^"'." frn^  '  thb  *Tarwh?nt"ever  the  cause  is  entire,  the 
tion  and  the  Produc^fon  of  effects  cons.st  m  a  ^ert  .^  ^^^ 

the  patient,  upon  which  they  work    is  =°f  ^"^'  y^.^^^es  more 

bodies  as  are  next  to  it,  and  ^gam,  of  such  other  K.o 

&V°  *S'lutira^g«-ntThara1.  ^JtiT S^  m  motion 
alreaay  no  luue      s  further  demonstrated  m  the 

the  beeinn°ng  and  cause  are  taken  for  the  same  thing.  But  «very 
one  of  The  fntermediate  parts  are  both  action  and  Pf''"".  »"'* 
cause  and  effect,  according  as  they  are  compared  with  the  ante- 
cedent  or  subsequent  part.  .         .     . 

"There  can  be  no  cause  of  motion,  except  m. a  ^^y  ^on 

empty.  orT  if  filled,  filled  with  another  body  which  is  at  rest, 


ELFMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


/ 


object,  as  it  were  the  fountain  of  light,  without  which 
we  cannot  have  any  perception  of  light;  and,  therefore, 
the  concurrence  of  that  object  is  necessary  to  the  gen- 
eration of  light./ Next  we  consider  the  medium,  and  find, 
that  unless  it  be  disposed  in  a  certain  manner,  namely, 
a    that  it  be  transparent,  though  the  object  remain  the  same, 


and  let  one  of  the  propounded  bodies  be  supposed  to  be  at  rest ; 
I  say  it  shall  always  be  at  rest.  For  if  it  shall  be  moved,  the 
cause  of  that  motion,  by  the  8th  chapter,  article  19,  will  be  some 
external  body;  and,  therefore,  if  between  it  and  that  external 
body  there  be  nothing  but  empty  space,  then  whatsoever  the  dis- 
position be  of  that  external  body  or  of  the  patient  itself,  yet  if 
it  be  supposed  to  be  now  at  rest,  we  may  conceive  it  will  con- 
tinue so  till  it  be  touched  by  some  other  body.  But  seeing  cause, 
by  the  definition,  is  the  aggregate  of  all  such  accidents,  which 
being  supposed  to  be  present,  it  cannot  be  conceived  but  that  the 
effect  will  follow,  those  accidents,  which  are  either  in  external 
bodies,  or  in  the  patient  itself,  cannot  be  the  cause  of  future 
motion.  And  in  like  manner,  seeing  we  may  conceive  that  what- 
soever is  at  rest  will  still  be  at  rest,  though  it  be  touched  by 
some  other  body,  except  that  other  body  be  moved;  therefore 
in  a  contiguous  body,  which  is  at  rest,  there  can  be  no  cause  of 
motion.  Wherefore  there  is  no  cause  of  motion  in  any  body,  ex- 
cept it  be  contiguous  and  moved. 

"The  same  reason  may  serve  to  prove  that  whatsoever  is 
moved,  will  always  be  moved  on  in  the  same  way  and  with  the 
same  velocity,  except  it  be  hindered  by  some  other  contiguous 
and  moved  body;  and  consequently  that  no  bodies,  either  when 
they  are  at  rest,  or  when  there  is  an  interposition  of  vacuum, 
can  generate  or  extinguish  or  lessen  motion  in  other  bodies. 
There  is  one  that  has  written  that  things  moved  are  more  re- 
sisted by  things  at  rest,  than  by  things  contrarily  moved ;  for  this 
reason,  that  he  conceived  motion  not  to  be  so  contrary  to  motion 
as  rest.  That  which  deceived  him  was,  that  the  words  rest  and 
motton  are  but  contradictory  names;  whereas  motion,  indeed,  is 
not  resisted  by  rest,  but  by  contrary  motion. 

'But  if  a  bodv  work  upon  another  body -at  one  time,  and  af- 
terwards the  same  body  work  upon  the  same  body  at  another 
time  so  that  both  the  agent  and  patient,  and  all  their  parts,  be 
in  all  things  as  they  were;  and  there  be  no  difference,  except 
only  in  time,  that  is,  that  one  action  be  former,  the  other  later  in 
time;  it  is  manifest  of  itself,  that  the  effects  will  be  equal  and 
like,  as  not  differing  in  anything  besides  time.  And  as  effects 
themselves  proceed  from  their  causes,  so  the  diversity  of  them 
PJJV?  "P^"  ^^  diversity  of  their  causes  also. 
This  being  true,  it  is  necessary  that  mutation  can  be  nothing 


OF  METHOD  " 

vet  the  effect  will  not  follow;  and,  therefore,^the  coih 
currence  of  transparency  is  also  necessary  to  the  gener- 
ation  of  light.  Thirdly,  we  observe  our  own  body^  and 
find  that  by  the  indisposition  of  the  eyes,  the  brain  he 
nerves,  and  the  heart,  that  is,  by  obstructions  stupid  ty 
and  d;bility,  we  are  deprived  of  light,  so  that  a  fi  ting 
disposition  of  the  organs  to  receive  impressions  from 


to  our  senses  otherwise  than  it  appeared  lorm^  ^^^ 

both  those  appearances  are  effects  P;°<»""'i '"  '  by  the  preced- 
therefore,  if  they  be  <!>««""''''  'I  t^fS' ^Lh  was  for- 
ing  article,  that  either  some  P^.^  of  Ae^ent^n     j^^^  .^  ^^.^ 

merly  at  rest,  is  now  moved  *J^rsTormerrmoved,  is  now  other- 

rH=ri»  vrp,3j»  p.|-«r;; 

tion,  howsoever  it  be  made    wil    consist  in  x  .^^^ 

^^:rc^^«tttio?;9^e3on^^^^^ 

parts  n'''^^  °*  *rtr«iis^t°is*'onCent  tSafrest  cannot 
^Te  caise' of  anytWng   nor  can  any  action  proceed  from  it; 

^^S -l^^s  r  ief  o"f"^?^^^5d^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

as  upon  their  causes,  are  called  fonwg""  generated;  for, 

respect  of  those  accidents  by  ^^^  not^g^^ 

ITec^X;  forofcise'tSy  would  have  no  causes  at  all;  which. 
°*  */'li?«^«  nof '*"Som°e'  man"  may  ask  whether  those  future 
thinS-wU^^^e  colZonly  caUed^ -^'hat?  ^h^rn^- 

otSr  events,  upon  >"h.ch  they  do  n^  depend,  as  tne  ^,^^^^^^ 
shall  be  tomorrow,  shall  ^«'\f?.^I^i.by  chance,  because  we 
causes;  but  we  think  and  ^y'\^!^^T\u^„^h  the^  exist  now; 


OS 


ELFMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


OF  METHOD 


63 


without  is  likewise  a  necessary  part  of  the  cause  of 
light.  Again,  of  all  the  accidents  inherent  in  the  ob- 
ject, there  is  none  that  can  conduce  to  the  effecting  of 
light,  but  only  action  (or  a  certain  motion),  which  can- 
not be  conceived  to  be  wanting,  whensoever  the  effect  is 
present ;  for,  that  anything  may  shine,  it  is  not  requisite 
that  it  be  of  such  or  such  magnitude  or  figure,  or  that 
the  whole  body  of  it  be  moved  out  of  the  place  it  is  in 


thing  be  done  or  no,  they  say  it  is  possible  it  never  was  done." 
(M.  I,  131).  "The  writers  of  metaphysics  reckon  up  two 
other  causes  besides  the  efficient  and  material,  namely,  the  es- 
sence, which  some  call  the  formal  cause,  and  the  end,  or  final 
cause;  both  which  are  nevertheless  efficient  causes.  For 
when  it  is  said  the  essence  of  a  thing  is  the  cause  thereof,  as  to 
be  rational  is  the  cause  of  man,  it  is  not  intelligible;  for  it  is 
all  one,  as  if  it  were  said,  to  be  a  man  is  the  cause  of  man; 
which  is  not  well  said.  And  yet  the  knowledge  of  the  essence 
of  anything,  is  the  cause  of  the  knowledge  of  the  thmg  itself; 
for,  if  I  first  know  that  a  thing  is  rational,  I  know  from  thence, 
that  the  same  is  man;  but  this  is  no  other  than  an  efficient 
cause.  A  final  cause  has  no  place  but  in  such  things  as  have 
sense  and  will." 

(M.  I,  411-412).  "If  [the  world]  had  a  beginning,  then  by 
what  cause  and  of  what  matter  it  was  made;  and  again,  from 
whence  that  cause  and  that  matter  had  their  being,  will  be  new 
questions ;  till  at  last  we  come  to  one  or  many  eternal  cause  or 
causes.  And  the  determination  of  all  these  things  belongeth 
to  him  that  professeth  the  universal  doctrine  of  philosophy,  in 
case  as  much  could  be  known  as  can  be  sought.  But  the  knowl- 
edge of  what  is  infinite  can  never  be  attained  by  a  finite  in- 
quirer. Whatsoever  we  know  that  are  men,  we  learn  it  from 
our  phantasms;  and  of  infinite,  whether  magnitude  or  time, 
there  is  no  phantasm  at  all ;  so  that  it  is  impossible  either  for  a 
man  or  any  other  creature  to  have  any  conception  of  infinite. 
And  though  a  man  may  from  some  effect  proceed  to  the  im- 
mediate cause  thereof,  and  from  that  to  a  more  remote  cause, 
and  so  ascend  continually  by  right  ratiocination  from  cause  to 
cause;  yet  he  will  not  be  able  to  proceed  eternallv,  but  wearied 
will  at  last  give  over,  without  knowing  whether  it  were  possible 
for  him  to  proceed  to  an  end  or  not.  *  *  *  The  questions 
therefore  about  the  magnitude  and  beginning  of  the  world,  are 
not  to  be  determined  by  philosophers,  but  by  those  that  are  law- 
fully authorized  to  order  the  worship  of  God.  For  as  Almighty 
God,  when  he  had  brought  his  people  into  Judea,  allowed  the 


(unless  it  may  perhaps  be  said,  that  m  the  sun.  or  othef 
body,  that  which  causes  light  is  the  light  it  hath  in  itself 
which  yet  is  but  a  trifling  exception,  seeing  nothing  is 
meant  thereby  but  the  cause  of  light;  as  ,f  any  man 
should  say  that  the  cause  of  light  is  that  m  the  sun  which 
produceth  it)  ;  it  remains,  therefore,  th^ttiie^^t.^  by     ^ 
which  lightis  generated,  is  motion  onlzm  thej)arls  of  the  ^  <^ 
object.    WhiclTbeing  understood,  we  may  easily  con- 
ceive  what  it  is  the  medium,  contributes  namely^thecon-    (^ . 
tinuation  of  that  motion  to  the  eye;  and,  lastly,  what  the 
eye  and  the  rest  of  the  organs  of  the  sentient  contrib- 
ute, namely,  the  continuatJonjqLthejam^motion.to_Jhe     <. 
last  organ^oLsense,  th_ej^rt.     And  in  this  manner  ^ 
cause  of  TigMiii^be  made  up  of  motion  contmued  fr<^ 
the  original  of  the  same  motion,  to  the  origmal  of  vita^ 
motion,  light  being  nothing  but  the  alteration  of  vital 


all  hU  attributes  signify  °''l.'"'''''''l''^tdn!f^y^^t^°i<y^  of 
ceive  anything  concernmg  h.s  "a"  «•  ""^  ""^^^^  concep  ^^^^ 

«;nS  :^xiU^^q^er^^^^^^ 

someS  elTe  before  that,  till  we  come  to  an  eterna^^,  that    s 
♦«^=v  the  first  oower  of  all  powers,  and  first  cause  of  all  causes . 

it  warmeth  him.' 


I 


OF  METHOD 


65 


I 


6i  ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

motion,  made  by  the  impression  upon  it  of  motion  contin- 
ued from  the  object.  But  I  give  this  only  for  an  ex- 
ample, for  I  shall  speak  more  at  large  of  light,  and  the 
generation  of  it,  in  its  proper  place.  In  the  mean  time 
it  is  manifest,  that  in  the  searching  out  of  causes,  there 
is  need  partly  of  the  analytical,  and  partly  of  the  synthet- 
ical method;  of  the  analytical,  to  conceive  how  circum- 
stances conduce  severally  to  the  production  of  effects; 
and  of  the  synthetical,  for  the  adding  together  and  com- 
pounding of  what  they  can  effect  singly  by  themselves. 
And  thus  much  may  serve  for  the  method  of  invention. 
It  remains  that  I  speak  of  the  method  of  teaching,  that 
is,  of  demonstration,  and  of  the  means  by  which  we 
demonstrate. 

II.  In  the  method  of  invention,  the  use  of  words 
consists  in  this,  that  they  may  serve  for  marks,  by  which 
whatsoever  we  have  found  out  may  be  recalled  to  mem- 
ory; for  without  this  all  our  inventions  perish,  nor  will 
it  be  possible  for  us  to  go  on  from  principles  beyond  a  syl- 
logism or  two,  by  reason  of  the  weakness  of  memory.  For 
example, (^f  any  man,  by  considering  a  triangle  set  be- 
fore him  should  find  that  all  its  angles  together  taken 
are  equal  to  two  right  angles,  and  that  by  thinking  of  the 
same  tacitly,  without  any  use  of  words  either  understood 
or  expressed;  and  it  should  happen  afterwards  that  an- 
other triangle,  unlike  the  former,  or  the  same  in  differ- 
ent situation,  should  be  offered  to  his  consideration,  he 
would  not  know  readily  whether  the  same  property  were 
in  this  last  or  no,  but  would  be  forced,  as  often  as  a  dif- 
ferent triangle  were  brought  before  him  (and  the  differ- 
ence of  triangles  is  infinite)  to  begin  his  contemplation 
anew;  which  he  would  have  no  need  to  do  if  he  had 
the  use  of  names,  for  every  universal  name  denotes  the 
conceptions  we  have  of  infinite  singular  things.    Never- 


f '  ■"!■  ■ 


.Heless.  as  I  said  ^Y' ^'l-Z^r:>''o:^'J:s'Z 
of  our  memory,  whereby  we  •"^B^^ter  to  ^^^ 

own  inventions ;  but  not  as  -JJ-  ^yj^f  rphilosopher 
same  to  others;  so  that  a  "^^" ^^^  J'^^P   ,,,d  this 

^  ^utt'te^tSaHl  tX^strate.  supp.es 
two  at  ihe  least,  and  syllogistical  speech. 

...    And  seeing  ^i;^;^^^:^^ 

tions.  m  that  track  by  w  ^^^^^^  ^^^^  ^^^^ 

our  own  mmd    there^e  ;  demonstration  to 

for  our  invention,  will  serve  also  tor  ^^^ 

others,  saving  that  wc  omit  ^e  fir  t  part 

demonstrated;  and  «^""g  ^^  j  .  ^      „eed  no  demon-, 
was  said  a^ve  in  the  5th  *™<^'^{       \^      ^ole  meth-^ 
stration.  though  they  need  "P^'-^f  ^^^    ^"^^^  consisting' 
od.  therefore.  oMe-nstr^^^^   ^^^'^^primar,  or  .  V 
of  that  order  of  speech  ^""'"    .  \-— nam'fest  of  them- 

..ost.unLversaliroposmo^^^^^^^^  ,f  p,op- 

selves,  and  proceeds  by  a  perpetu  P         ^^^^^^^^„,i 

ositions  into  syllogisms,  till  at  !*«*  tne 

the  truth  of  the  conclusion  sought  after. 

,3.    How.   such  principles  --*^^.  b-  d^n. 

tions."    whereof    there    ^^  ,^^^ /?;';  ^.^^eivable  cause, 
that  signify  such  thmgs  as  ^ave    ome  con^ei  ^^^^^ 

and  another  of  such  "---/^..^'^^.^  "f  the  former 
we  can  conceive  no  cause  at  all.    Barnes  o 

~  ,  „      ■  „    from    Philosophical    Rudiments, 

a  Compare    the    following    fr°m  ^m      ^       ^^^  ^^^^„  ,„. 

(M.  II,  305),   '''r'''=„^,=?d'eT  rc°"<l"°  ^'''  *°  •'"°*'^<'8*=  '"'^'  '^^ 
r^.^irt^A  after  is  propounaea,  is  couuu 

2nly  way^^  i^«^^^  ^^  ^>'  ^'^''''''''^ 


} 


i^ 


^ 


66 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


OF  METHOD 


67 


kind  are,  body,  or  matter,  quantity,  or  extension,  mO' 
Hon,  and  whatsoever  is  common  to  all  matter.     Of  the 
second  kind,  are  such  a  body,  such  and  so  great  motion, 
so  great  magnitude,  such  figure,  and  whatsoever  we  can 
distinguish  one  body  from  another  by.     And  names  of 
the   former  kind   are   well   enough   defined,   when,   by 
speech  as  short  as  may  be,  we  raise  in  the  mind  of  the 
hearer  perfect  and  clear  ideas  or  conceptions  of  the  things 
named,  as  when  we  define  motion  to  be  the  leaving  of 
one  place,   and   the  acquiring  of  another  continually; 
for  though  no  thing  moved,  nor  any  cause  of  motion  be 
in  that  definition,  yet,  at  the  hearing  of  that  speech,  there 
will  come  into  the  mind  of  the  hearer  an  idea  of  motion 
clear  enough.     But  definitions  of  things,  which  may  be 
understood  to  have  some  cause,  must  consist  of  such 
names  as  express  the  cause  or  manner  of  their  generation, 
as  when  we  define  a  circle  to  be  a  figure  made  by  the  cir- 
cumduction of  a  straight  line  in  a  plane,  &c.  (besides 
definitions,  there  is  no  other  proposition  that  ought  to  be 
called  primary,  or.  (according  to  severe  truth)   be  re- 
ceived   into    the    number    of    principles.^/    I'^or    those 
axioms  of  Euclid,  seeing  they  may  be  demonstrated,  are 
no  principles  of  demonstration,  though  they  have  by  the 
consent  of  all  men  gotten  the  authority  of  principles,  be- 
cause they  need  not  be  demonstrated.     Also,  those  peti- 


*  Compare  the  following  from  Elements  of  Philosophy,  (M. 
'  ^v^*  ''^/****^^y  [proposition]  is  that  wherein  the  subject  is 
explicated  by  a  predicate  of  many  names,  as  man  is  a  body  an- 
imated, rational;  for  that  which  is  comprehended  in  the  name 
man,  is  more  largely  expressed  in  the  names  body,  animated  and 
rational,  joined  together;  and  it  is  called  primary,  because  it  is 
first  m  ratiocination ;  for  nothing  can  be  proved,  without  under- 
standing^ first  the  name  of  the  thing  in  question.  Now  primary 
propositions  arc  nothing  but  definitions,  or  parts  of  definitions, 
and  these  only  are  the  principles  of  demonstration,  being  truths 
constituted  arbitrarily  by  the  inventors  of  speech,  and  therefore 
not  to  be  demonstrated." 


) 


I 


Hons.  or  postulata,  (as  they  call  them)  though  tiiey  be 
^^iplesf  yet  they  are  not  principles  of  demonstm.on 
but  of  construction  only;  that  is.  not  of  science  but  of 
power;  or  (which  is  all  one)  not  of  theorans,  which  are 
sneTulatLs  but  of  problems,  which  belong  to  pract.ce. 
orh  Sg  of  sonfething.  But  as  for  those  -mmon 
received  opfnions.  Nature  abhors  vaeuUy.  Nature  doth 
nothing  in  vain,  and  the  like,  which  are  neither  evident 

;  t^selves.  nor  at  all  to  be  demonstrated   and  wh.d. 
are  oftener  false  than  true,  they  are  much  less  to  be  ac 
knowledged  for  principles.  ■ 

To  return,  therefore,  to  definitions;  the  reason  why    > 

I  say  that  the  caus,e_and_£eneration  of  such  things   as 

TZiJns,  is  this.    The  end  of  -eWB^^^^tra- 
tion  of  the  causes_^nd^generations  of  things;  which  if 
hey  be  not  in  the  definitions,  they  cannot  be  found  in  *e 
V  conclusion  of  the  first  syllogism,  that  is  made  from  those 
)  definitions ;  and  if  they  be  not  in  the  first  conclus-^' ^^ 
'  will  not  be  found  in  any  further  conclusion  deduced  from 
Tha  •  and,  therefore,  by  proceeding  in  this  manner,  we 
2l  n^ver  come  to  science ;  which  is  against  the  scopej 
and  intention  of  demonstration.' 

T.      Now    seeing  definitions   (as  I  have  said)   are  ^^t^  ^vv. 

•^;i.f  r;  onmaWopositions,  they  are  therefore  -U^l^r^. 

^       t   Z  seeSS^are  used  for  the  raising  of  an    W^.^.  - 

r  r-e^;^:g'in^hUind  of  the^i^^^^^^^^^       ^^^.^ 

ever  that  thing  has  a  name,  the  defimtion  of  it  can  be  I 

»  Compare  the  following  from  5U  ^^X^t'arf  thol^  whkh 
212).  "Of  true  and  evident  <i?fi"'*'°f"'\,*f  subiect  whereof  the 
declare  the  cause  or  S-^nf  ^«°"  nst„Ud  For  science  is  that 
Edr'rhU^ts'de^lvednrTe'-comprehension   of  the 

cause." 


-  I 


68 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


OF  METHOD 


69 


nothing  but  the  explication  of  that  name  by  speech ;  and 
if  that  name  be  given  it  for  some  compounded  conception, 
f  the  definition  is  nothing  but  a  resolution  of  that  name 
into  its  most  universal  parts.  As  when  we  defuie  man, 
saying  man  is  a  body  animated,  sentient,  rational,  those 
names,  body  animated,  &c,  are  parts  of  that  whole  name 
man;  so  that  definitions  of  this  kind  always  consist  of 
genus  and  difference;  the  former  names  being  all,  till 
the  last,  general;  and  the  last  of  all,  difference.  But  if 
any  name  be  the  most  universal  in  its  kind,  then  the 
definition  of  it  cannot  consist  of  genus  and  difference, 
but  is  to  be  made  by  such  circumlocution,  as  best  expli- 
cateth  the  force  of  that  name.  Again,  it  is  possible,  and 
happens  often,  that  the  genus  and  difference  are  put  to- 
gether, and  yet  make  no  definition;  as  these  words,  a 
straight  line,  contain  both  the  genus  and  difference;  but 
are  not  a  definition,  unless  we  should  think  a  straight  line 
may  be  thus  defined,  a  straight  line  is  a  straight  line:  and 
yet  if  there  were  added  another  name,  consisting  of  dif- 
ferent words,  but  signifying  the  same  thing  which  these 
signify,  then  these  might  be  the  definition  of  that  name. 
From  what  has  been  said,  it  may  be  understood  how  a 
definition  ought  to  be  defined,  namely,  that  it  is  a  propo* 
sition,  whose  predicate  resolves  the  subject,  when  it  may; 
and  when  it  may  not,  itjxempUHes  the  same. 


\'- 


.//. 


t 


^  Compare  the  following  from  Questions  concerning  Lib' 
erty,  etc.  (M.  V,  370-370.  "A  right  definition  is  that  which  de- 
termineth  the  signification  of  the  word  defined,  to  the  end  that 
^,^^  ,  '  in  the  discourse  where  it  is  used,  the  meaning  of  it  may  be  con- 
wf-^  '***^stant  and  without  equivocation.  This  is  the  meas.ure  of  a  defini- 
tion, and  intelligible  to  an  English  reader.  But  the  Bishop,  that 
measures  it  by  the  genus  and  the  difference,  thinks,  it  seems, 
though  he  write  English,  he  writes  not  to  an  English  reader  unless 
he  also  be  a  Schoolman.  I  confess  the  rule  is  good,  that  wc 
ought  to  define,  when  it  can  be  done,  by  using  first  some  more 
general  term,  and  then  by  restraining  the  signification  of  that 
general  term,  till  it  be  the  same  with  that  of  the  word  defined. 


IS.     The  properties  of  a  definition  are: 
First,  that  it  takes  away  equivocation,  as  also  all  that 
n.ulSe  of  distinctions,  which  are  used  ^y^^^^  ^^^^^^^^ 
Xy  U  learn  philosophy  by  ^^^P^^ J^  J^^^^^^^^ 
of  a  definition  is  to  define,  that  is,  to  ^^^^"^^^^.^^^^^^^^^ 
fication  of  the  defined  name,  and  to  ^-^^^J^^^^^^^^ 
signification  ^oesides  what  is  contamed  m  tW^^^^^^ 
its'df ;  and  therefore  one  definition  does  as  -^<=^'  - jj^ 
the  distinctions   (how  many  soever)   that  can  be  us 
about  the  name  defined. 

Secondly,  that  it  gives  an  universal  "f »"  ^J  *?  ^^^f 
defined,  representing  a  certain  universal  PC^u^e  ^«^^of 
not  to  the  eye.  but  to  the  mind.  For  as  when  one  pa m^^^ 
man.  he  paints  the  image  of  some  man ;  so  he,  that  dehnes 
S^  ^ame  man.  makes  a  representation  ,f  some  man  to  the 
mind. 

Thirdly,  that  it  is  not  necessary  to  dispute  whether 
defiS;;n?kre  to  be  admitted  or  no  For  when  a  mas^e 
is  instructing  his  scholar,  if  the  scholar  "^f^"^"^  " 
parts  of  the  thing  defined,  which  are  f«=«^^f /^^^f  ^^^'re 
inition.  and  yet  will  not  admit  o  the  detot>on.  the^e 
needs   no   further   controversy  betw.xt  them    it  bemg 

all   one  as    if   he   refused   ^^  ^   '^^^^^.^t  iLty- 
understand  nothing,  then  certainly  the  ^^^^-^^J'^l;, 
fnr  the  nature  of  a  definition  consists  m  this,  that  it  ex 
Sit  a  clet^ea  of  the  thing  defined;  and  principles - 
either  known  by  themselves,  or  else  they  are  not  pnn 

ciples. 

Fourthly,  that,  in  philosophy,  definitions  are  before  de- 


And  this  general  tern,  the  School  caUs  «.«»..  and  the^r-t™"J 

difference.    This.  I  say,  is  a  8°°<*.^"'' ^"^^^ot  admit  a  more  gen- 
some  words  are  so  general,  that  they  cannoi  a 

eral  in  their  definition. 


ij^lf  O/u^-U.    1^  lUlZLoZt      KycJ)^>^>-r  -  M^  =^ai-f-^ ^  <'-^^^:t^ 


i 


TO 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


fined  names.    For  in  teaching  philosophy,  the  first  begin- 
ning is  from  definitions ;  and  all  progression  in  the  same, 
till  we^c^neJoJhe--kHowkdge  of  the  thing  compounded, 
is  xcafiposltiver  Seeing,  therefore,  definition  is  the  expli- 
cation of  a  compounded  name  by  resolution,  and  the  pro- 
gression is  from  the  parts  to  the  compound,  definitions 
must  be   understood   before   compounded   names;   nay, 
when  the  names  of  the  parts  of  any  speech  be  expli- 
cated, it  is  not  necessary  that  the  definition  should  be  a 
name  compounded  of  them.     For  example,  when  these 
names,  equilateral,  quadrilateral,  right-angled,  are  suf- 
ficiently understood,  it  is  not  necessary  in  geometry  that 
there  should  be  at  all  sudi  a  name  as  square;  for  defined 
names  are  received  in  philosophy  for  brevity's  sake  only. 
Fifthly,  that  compounded  names,  which  are  defined 
one  way  in  some  one  part  of  philosophy,  may  in  another 
part  of  the  same  be  otherwise  defined ;  as  a  parabola  and 
an  hyperbole  have  one  definition  in  geometry,  and  another 
in  rhetoric ;  for  definitions  are  instituted  and  serve  for  the 
understanding  of  the  doctrine  which  is  treated  of.    And, 
therefore,  as  in  one  part  of  philosophy,  a  definition  may 
have  in  it  some  one  fit  name  for  the  more  brief  explana- 
tion of  some  proposition  in  geometry ;  so  it  may  have  the 
same  liberty  in  other  parts  of  philosophy ;  for  the  use  of 
names  is  particular  (even  where  many  agree  to  the  set- 
of  them)  and  arbitrary. 

Sixthly,  that  no  name  can  be  defined  bv  any  one  word  • 
because  no  one  word  is  sufficient  for  the  resolving  of  one 
or  more  words. 

Seventhly,  that  a  defined  name  ought  not  to  be  repeat- 
ed in  the  definition.  For  a  defined  name  is  the  whole 
compound,  and  a  definition  is  the  resolution  of  that  com- 
pound into  parts ;  but  no  total  can  be  part  of  itself. 

i6.  Any  two  definitions,  that  may  be  compounded 
into  a  syllogism, produce  a  conclusion;  which,  because  it  is 


OF  METHOD 


derived  from  principles,  that  is,  from  definitions,  is  said 
to  be  demonstrated ;  and  the  derivation  or  composition 
itself  is  called  a  demonstration.     In  like  manner,  if  a  syl- 
logism  be  made  of  two  propositions,  whereof  one  is  a  defi- 
nition, the  other  a  demonstrated  conclusion,  or  ^e^^J^^  ^J 
them  is  a  definition,  but  both  formerly  demonstrated,  that 
syllogism  is  also  called  a  demonstraUon,  and  so  succes- 
sively    The  definition  therefore  of  a  demonstration  is 
this,  a  demonstration  is  a  syllogism,  or  series  of  syllo- 
Zisms,  derived  and  continued,  from  the  deHmtions  of 
lames,  to  the  last  conclusion.    And  from  hence  it  may 
be  understood,  that  all  true  ratiocination,  which  taketh  its 
beginning  from  true  principles,  produceth  science,  and 
is  true    demonstration.     For    as    ^or    the    original    of 
the    name,    although    that,    which    the    Greeks    called 
inoSetet^,  and  the  Latins  demonstrate,  was  understood 
by  them  for  that  sort  only  of  ratiocination,  in  which,  by 
the  describing  of  certain  lines  and  figures,  they  placed  the 
thing  they  were  to  prove,  as  it  were  before  men  s  eyes, 
which  is  properly    d^odetxvuetv,    or  to  shew  by  the  figure ; 
yet  they  seem  to  have  done  it  for  this  reason,  that  unless 
it  were  in  geometry,  (in  which  only  there  is  place  for 
such  figures)  there  was  no  ratiocination  certain  and  end- 
ing in  science,  their  doctrines  concerning  all  other  things 
being  nothing  but  controversy  and  clamour;  which  nev- 
ertheless,  happened,  not  because  the  truth  to  which  th^y 
pretended  could  not  be  made  evident  without  ^^^f '  J^^ 
.     because  they  wanted  true  principles,  from  which  they 
mieht  derive  their  ratiocination ;  and,  therefore,  there  is 
no    reason    but    that    if    true    definitions    were    pre- 
mised in  all  sorts  of  doctrines,  the  demonstrations  also 
would  be  true.^ 

T  Compare  the' following  from  Si,  kfd'ZtrfinA^oJtrl 
183-184).    "Of  arts,  some  arc  demonstrable,  others  mdcmonsira 


li 


73 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


OF  METHOD 


73 


17.    It  is  proper  to  methodical  demonstration, 

First,  that  there  be  a  true  succession  of  one  reason  to 
another,  according  to  the  rules  of  syllogizing  delivered 
above. 

Secondly,  that  the  premises  of  all  syllogisms  be  dem- 
onstrated from  the  first  definitions." 

Thirdly,  that  after  definitions,  he  that  teaches  or  dem- 
onstrates any  thing,  proceed  in  the  same  method  by  which 
he  found  it  out;  namely,  that  in  the  first  place  those 
things  be  demonstrated,  which  immediately  succeed  to  uni- 
versal definitions  (in  which  is  contained  that  part  of 
philosophy  which  is  called  philosophia  prima). ^     Next, 


ble;  and  demonstrable  are  those  the  construction  of  the  subject 
whereof  is  in  the  power  of  the  artist  himself,  who,  in  his  demon- 
stration, does  no  more  but  deduce  the  consequences  of  his  own 
operation.  The  reason  whereof  is  this,  that  the  science  of  every 
subject  is  derived  from  a  precognition  of  the  causes,  generation, 
and  construction  of  the  same;  and  consequently  where  the 
causes  are  known,  there  is  place  for  demonstration,  but  not 
where  the  causes  are  to  seek  for.  Geometry  therefore  is  demon- 
strable, for  the  lines  and  fieures  from  which  we  reason  are 
drawn  and  described  by  ourselves;  and  civil  philosophy  is 
demonstrable,  because  we  make  the  commonwealth  ourselves. 
But  because  of  natural  bodies  we  know  not  the  construction,  but 
seek  it  from  the  effects,  there  lies  no  demonstration  of  what  the 
causes  be  we  seek  for,  but  only  of  that  what  they  may  be." 

*  Compare  the  f  llowing  from  Six  Lessons,  ec.  (M.  VII, 
211-212).  "There  be  but  two  causes  from  which  can  spring  an 
error  in  the  demonstration  of  any  conclusion  in  any  science 
whatsoever;  and  those  are  ignorance  or  want  of  understanding, 
and  negligence.  For  as  in  the  adding  together  of  many  and 
great  numbers,  he  cannot  fail  that  knoweth  the  rules  of  addition, 
and  is  also  all  the  way  so  careful,  as  not  to  mistake  one  num- 
ber or  one  place  for  another ;  so  in  any  other  science,  he  that  is 
perfect  in  the  rules  of  logic,  and  is  so  watchful  over  his  pen.  as 
not  to  put  one  word  for  another,  can  never  fail  of  making  a  true, 
though  not  perhaps  the  shortest  and  easiest  demonstration.  The 
rules  of  demonstration  are  but  of  two  kinds :  one,  that  the  prin- 
ciples be  true  and  evident  definitions;  the  other,  that  the  infer- 
ences be  necessary." 

•Compare  the  following  from  the  Leviathan.  (M.  HI, 
671).     "There   is   a   certain   philosophia   prima,   on    which   all 


i 


^.  things  which  .ay  be  ^^^^^^'l^tT^. 
(in  which  geometry  c^ns-^^^  ^^^^^  LnifesV  action, 
things  as  may  be  taught  or  ^^^^^'^  ^.zrds  And  after 
that  is.  by  thrusting  from,  or  P^l^-^Sj^^^^Sy,^^^^  of 

these,  the  motion  or  -^^f^^JJ^^J^^^J,  and  of 
things,  and  the  doctnne  of  sen  e  '^"^  imag.  ^^.^^ 

the  internal  passions,  especially  those  ot  me  , 

are  comprehended  the  ^^IjJj^^^^^eS  that  this 
philosophy;  which  takes  -Pti^ela^^^  .^  ^^._ 

meth<Mi  ought  to  be  k  PMn^l  ^^^^^^^^^   P^^^^^  ^^.^  ^^^  ^^ 

dent  from  hence,  that  sucli  """S  .j,       j,  ^  „^ 

work. 

■:^;::r^;^;::^ov^^.x  to  ^e^d ;  ^a  ~^« Vp^^^^^^^^^  »" 

?ght  limiting  of  the  ^gwfi'^'^J^Uversal;  which  UmiUt.ons 
names,  as  are  of  all  "'h'" '^«  ^^^^J,^" on  in  Reasoning;  and  are 
serve  to  avoid  ambigu  ty  and  'q"'^°f;,^  ^^e  definitions  of  body 

commonly  <^>l«l<l'*^?'Vm«sence  subject,  substance,  ac"<l„'"*' 
time,  place,  t.iatter,  form,  essence,  ™  ■> .       n,otion,  action,  pas- 

p^w^r,  act,  finite,  '"to"'  ^"^"*7\o^"the 'Explaining  of  a  mans 
sion,  and  divers  others,  "««*4"y°a„d  generation  oJE  bodies 
conceptions  concerning  '^^^^f-^l.tions    etc.     (M.  VII.  226). 
Also  the  following  * ■•°n'.  •^/'^.h?  seed    aAd  no  part  of  the  har- 
"Words  understood  ""^.^t.  seed  wiisT which  Aristotle  went 
vest  of  philosophy,    ^n^  t^'J'of  m//o/.  .y«",  and  in  his  eight 
about  to  sow  in  his  twelve  ^"^^  ?\'^,„^j  philosophy.     And  m 
books  concerning  the  h«?""S°'  "distance  or  Essence,  quan- 
Aese  books  he  defineth  t'«Vhfncrm  ght  be  ttken  the  definitions 
tity,  relation.  &c.,  that  from  thence  migM  d  ^^^^^^^  „j 

of  he  most  general  words  for  principles  in  ^^^^^^  ^^^  . 
science.  So  that  all  definitions  I^f°"^°  jt^  he  may  properly 
standing ;  of  which,  if  any  man  "g"'y  T'J  '.^e  seeds,  or  the 
caUhb  writing  philosophu,  /"^'j^^^^ethod  I  have  used,  de- 
grounds  of  philosophy.  And  *'S '*.  ^^'.^  „ost  general  appella- 
fi^ng  place,  magnitude   and  Ae  other  the  m^^  ^^^^  ,3, 


1 


74 


ELE?^ENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


OF  METHOD 


7S 


1 8.  Besides  those  paralogisms,  whose  fault  lies  either 
in  the  falsity  of  the  premises,  or  the  want  of  true  com- 
position, of  which  I  have  spoken  in  the  precedent  chapter, 
there  are  two  more,  which  are  frequent  in  demonstration ; 
one  whereof  is  commonly  called  petitio  principii; 
the  other  is  the  supposing  of  a  false  cause;  and 
these  do  not  only  deceive  unskilful  learners,  but 
sometimes  masters  themselves,  by  making  them 
take  that  for  well  demonstrated,  which  is  not 
demonstrated  at  all.  Petitio  principii  is,  when  the 
conclusion  to  be  proved  is  disguised  in  other  words,  and 
put  for  the  definition  or  principle  from  whence  it  is  to 
be  demonstrated;  and  thus,  by  putting  for  the  cause  of 
the  thing  sought,  either  the  thing  itself  or  some  effect  of 
it,  they  make  a  circle  in  their  demonstration.  As  for  ex- 
ample, he  that  would  demonstrate  that  the  earth  stands 
still  in  the  center  of  the  world,  and  should  suppose  the 
earth's  gravity  to  be  the  cause  thereof,  and  define 
gravity  to  be  a  quality  by  which  every  heavy  body 
tends  towards  the  center  of  the  world,  would  lose  his  la- 
bour ;  for  the  question  is,  what  is  the  cause  of  that  quali- 
ty in  the  earth?  and,  therefore,  he  that  supposes  gravity 
to  be  the  cause,  puts  the  thing  itself  for  its  own  cause. 

Of  a  false  cause  I  find  this  example  in  a  certain  treatise 
where  the  thing  to  be  demonstrated  is  the  motion  of  the 
earth.  He  begins,  therefore,  with  this,  that  seeing  the 
earth  and  the  sun  are  not  always  in  the  same  situation, 
it  must  needs  be  that  one  of  them  be  locally  moved,  which 
is  true ;  next,  he  afiirms  that  the  vapours,  which  the  sun 
raises  from  the  earth  and  sea,  are,  by  reason  of  this  mo- 
tion, necessarily  moved,  which  also  is  true ;  from  whence 
he  infers  the  winds  are  made,  and  this  may  pass  for  grant- 
ed ;  and  by  these  winds  he  says,  the  waters  of  the  sea  arc 
moved,  and  by  their  motion  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  as  if  it 


were  beaten  forwards,  moves  round ;  and  let  this  also  be 
granted ;  wherefore,  he  concludes,  the  earth  .s  moved 
which  is,  nevertheless,  a  paralogism.    For,  .f  that  ^vmd 
were  the  cause  why  the  earth  was.  from  the  beginmng 
moved  round,  and  the  motion  either  of  the  sun  or    he 
earth  were  the  cause  of  that  wind,  then  the  motion  of  the 
sun  or  the  earth  was  before  the  wmd  itself;  and  if    he 
earth  were  moved,  before  the  wmd  was  made,  then  the 
wind  could  not  be  the  cause  of  the  earth's  revo^ut^on ;  but 
if  the  sun  were  moved,  and  the  earth  stand  still,  then  it  is 
manifest  the  earth  might  remain  unmoved,  notwi^sUnd- 
ing  that  wind ;  and  therefore  that  motion  was  not  made  by 
thf  cause  which  he  allegeth.     But  para  ogisms  of  th^s 
kind  are  very  frequent  among  the  writers  of  physKS^^ 
though  none  can  be  more  elaborate  than  this  m  the  ex- 

ample  giveo« 

19.    It  may  to  some  men  seem  pertinent  to  treat  in  this 

place  of  that  art  of  the  geometricians,  which  they  call 
losristica.  that  is.  the  art,  by  which,  from  supposing  the 
thing  in  question  to  be  true,  they  proceed  by  ratiocination 
till  either  they  come  to  something  known,  by  winch  they 
maytmonstLte  the  truth  of  the  thing  sought  for ;  or  to 

something  which  is  impossible,  ^om^l'"^^^  ^^7.^  !rt 
that  to  be  false,  which  they  supposed  true     But  this  art 
cannot  be  explicated  here,  for  this  reason  that  the  meth- 
od of  it  can  neither  be  practised,  nor  understood,  unless 
by  such  as  are  well  versed  in  geometry;  and  among  geo- 
metricians themselves,  they,  that  have  '"f  *<^"";' '" 
readiness,  are  the  most  ready  in  the  use  of  this  logisUca. 
so  that,  indeed,  it  is  not  a  distinct  thing  from  geometry 
itself;  for  there  arc.  in  the  method  of  it,  three  parte 
the  first  whereof  consists  in  the  finding  out  of  equa hty  be- 
twixt  known  and  unknown  things,  which  they  call  equa- 
tion •  and  this  equation  cannot  be  found  out,  but  by  such 


ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY 


as  know  perfectly  the  nature,  properties,  and  transposi- 
tions of  proportion,  as  also  the  addition,  subtraction,  mul- 
tiplication, and  division  of  lines  and  superficies,  and  the 
extraction  of  roots ;  which  are  the  parts  of  no  mean  geo- 
metrician. The  second  is,  when  an  equation  is  found, 
to  be  able  to  judge  whether  the  truth  or  falsity  of  the 
question  may  be  deduced  from  it,  or  no ;  which  yet  re- 
quires greater  knowledge.  And  the  third  is,  when  such 
an  equation  is  found,  as  is  fit  for  the  solution  of  the  ques- 
tion, to  know  how  to  resolve  the  same  in  such  manner, 
that  the  truth  or  falsity  may  thereby  manifestly  appear; 
which,,  in  hard  questions,  cannot  be  done  without  the 
knowledge  of  the  nature  of  crooked-lined  figures;  but  he 
that  understands  readily  the  nature  and  properties  of 
these,  is  a  complete  geometrician.  It  happens  besides, 
that  for  the  finding  out  of  equations,  there  is  no  certain 
method,  but  he  is  best  able  to  do  it,  that  has  the  best  nat- 
ural wit 


A \>n  f.tf  r, »/. ■.•■/./.•  .  *'ii^ar/ffA-t /vim  v*"!.' 


1 

t 


: 


SELECTIONS  FROM 


LEVIATHAN 


OK 


THE  MATTER,  FORM,  AND  POWER 


OF  A 


COMMONWEALTH 


^ 


ECCLESIASTICAL   AND    CIVIL 


THE   EPISTLE   DEDICATORY. 


I* 


m^ 


TO  MY  MOST   HONOR'd    FRIEND 

MR.   FRANCIS   GODOLPHIN, 

OF  GODOLPHIN. 

Honor'd  Sir, 
Your  most  worthy  brother,  Mr.   Sidney  Godolphin, 
when  he  Uved,  was  pleased  to  think  my  studies  some- 
thing, and  otherwise  to  oblige  me,  as  you  know,  with 
real   testimonies  of  his   good   opinion,   great   in   them- 
selves, and  the  greater  for  the  worthiness  of  his  person. 
For  there  is  not  any  virtue  that  disposeth  a  man,  either 
to  the  service  of  God,  or  to  the  service  of  his  country, 
to  civil  society,  or  private  friendship,  that  did  not  man- 
ifestly appear  in  his  conversation,  not  as  acquired  by 
necessity,  or  affected  upon  occasion,  but  inherent,  and 
shining  in  a  generous  constitution  of  his  nature.    There- 
fore, in  honour  and  gratitude  to  him,  and  with  devo- 
tion to  yourself,  I  humbly  dedicate  unto  you  this  my 
discourse  of  Commonwealth.         I  know  not  how  the 
world  will  receive  it,  nor  how  it  may  reflect  on  those 
that  shall  seem  to  favour  it.    For  in  a  way  beset  with 
those  that  contend,  on  one  si3e'  for  too  p^reat  liberty, 
and  on  the  other  side  for  too  much  authority,  'tis  hard 
to  pass  between  the  points  of  both  unwounded.     But 
yet,  methinks,  the  endeavour  to  advance  the  civil  power, 
should  not  be  by  the  civil  power  condemned ;  nor  private 
men,  by  reprehending  it,  declare  they  think  that  power 
too  great.  Besides,  I  speak  not  of  the  men,  but,  in  the 


So 


LEVIATHAN 


abstract,  of  the  seat  of  power,  (like  to  those  S'«.P»e  ?°.^ 
unpartial  creatures  in  the  Roman  apitol,  that  with  their 
noise  defended  those  within  it,  not  because  they  were 
they,  but  there),  oflfending  none,  I  think,  but  those  with- 
out, or  such  within,  if  there  be  any  such,  as  favour  them. 
That  which  perhaps  may  most  offend,  are  certam  texts 
of  Holy  Scripture,  alleged  by  me  to  other  purpose  than 
ordinarily  they  use  to  be  by  others.    But  I  have  done  it 
with  due  submission,  and  also,  in  order  to  my  subject, 
necessarily ;  for  they  are  the  outworks  of  the  enemy,  from 
whence  they  impugn  the  civil  power.    If  notwithstand- 
ing this,  you  find  my  labour  generally  decried,  you  may 
be  pleased  to  excuse  yourself,  and  say,  I  am  a  man  that 
love  my  own  opinions,  and  think  all  true  I  say,  that  I 
honoured  your  brother,  and  honour  you,  and  have  pre- 
sumed on  that,  to  assume  the  title,  without  your  knowl- 
edge, of  being,  as  I  am. 

Sir, 
Your  most  humble, 

and  most  obedient  Servant, 

Thomas  Hobbes. 

Paris,  A/>riHi,  16$!. 


^ 


.( cc 


THE 

INTRODUCTION. 


ilu'--'^-"' 


r  t^. 


V^ 


■ClA^ 


Nature,  the  art  whereby  God  hath  made  and  governs 
the  world,  is  by  the  art  of  man,  as  in  many  other  things, 
so  in  this  also  imitatedL^Jjat  it  can  make  an  artificial 
animal.     For  seeing /tifeis)  but  a  motion  of  limbs,  the 
be^nning  whereof   iT^    some   principal   Dart   <yithin> 
why  may  we  not  say,  that  all  automata  (engines  that 
move  themselves  by  springs  and  wheels  as  doth  a  watch) 
have  an  artificial  life?      For  what  is  the  heart,  but  a 
spring;  and  the  nerves,  but  so  many  strings;  and  the 
joints,  but  so  many  wheels,  giving  motion  to  the  whole 
body,  such  as  was  intended  by  the  artificer?    Art  goes 
yet  further,  imitating  that  rational  and  most  excellent 
^work  of  nature,  man.  For  by  ^rt_is  created^that  great 
Leviathan   called   a   Commonwealth,   or   State,   in 
Latin  Civitas.  which  is  hi^t  f n  artificial  man :  though 
of  greater  stature  and  strength  than  the  natural,   for 
whose  protection  and  defence  it  was  intended;  and  in 
which  the  sovereignty  is  an  artificial  soul,  as  giving  life 
and  motion  to  the  whole  body ;  the   magistrates,  and 
other  oMcers  of  judicature  and  execution,  artificial  joints; 
reward  and  punishment,  by  which  fastened  to  the  seat  of 
the  sovereignty  every  joint  and  member  is  moved  to  per- 
I  form  his  duty,  are  the  nerves,  that  do  the  same  in  the 
body  natural ;  the  wealth  and  riches  of  all  the  particular 
members,  are  the  strength;  salus  poptdi,  the  peoples 
safety,  its  business;  counsellors,  by  whom  all  things  need- 
ful for  it  to  know  are  suggested  unto  it,  are  the  memory; 
equity,  and  laws,  an  artificial  reason  and  will;  concord. 


(cv.S 


\ 


ill     *i 


82 


LEVIATHAN 


\ health;  sedition,  sickness;  and  civil  war,  death.  Lastly, 
ithe  pacts  and  covenants,  by  which  the  parts  of  this  body 
/politic  were  at  first  made,  set  together,  and  united,  re- 
Jsemble  that  Hat,  or  the  let  us  make  man,  pronounced  by 
[God  in  the  creation. 
'"■^  To  describe  the  nature  of  this  artificial  man,  I  will 
consider 

First,  the  matter  thereof,  and  the  artificer;  both  which 
is  man. 

Secondly,  how,  and  by  what  covenants  it  is  made; 
what  are  the  rights  and  just  power  or  authority  oi  a  sov- 
ereign; and  what  it  is  that  preserve fh  or  dissolveth  it. 
Thirdly,  what  is  a  Christian  commonwealth, 

U  Lastly,  what  is  the  kingdom  of  darkness. 
Concerning  the  first,  there  is  a  saying  much  usurped 
of  late,  that  wisdom  is  acquired,  not  by  reading  of  hooks, 
but  of  men.  Consequently  whereunto,  those  persons, 
that  for  the  most  part  can  give  no  oither  proof  of  being 
wise,  take  great  delight  to  show  what  they  think  they 
have  read  in  men^  by  uncharitable  censures  of  one  an- 
other behind  their  backs.  But  there  is  another  saying 
not  of  late  understood,  by  which  they  might  learn  truly 
to  read  one  another,  if  they  would  take  the  pains;  that 
is,  nosce  teipsum,  read  thyself:  which  was  not  meant, 
as  it  is  now  used,  to  countenance,  either  the  barbarous 
state  of  men  in  power,  towards  their  inferiors ;  or  to  en- 
courage men  of  low  degree,  to  a  saucy  behaviour  to- 
wards their  betters;  but  to  teach  us,  that  for  the  simili- 
tude of  the  thoughts  and  passions  of  one  man,  to  the 
thoughts  and  passions  of  another,  whosoever  looketh  in- 
to himself,  and  considereth  what  he  doth,  when  he  does 
think,  opine,  reason,  hope,  fear,  &c,.  and  upon  what 
grounds ;  he  shall  thereby  read  and  know,  what  are  the 
thoughts  and  passions  of  all  other  men  upon  the  like  oc- 


T 


INTRODUCTION 


«3 


I 


casions.  I  say  the  similitude  of  passions,  which  are  the 
same  in  all  men,  desire,  fear,  hope,  &c ;  not  the  similitude 
of  the  objects  of  the  passions,  which  are  the  things  de- 
sired,  feared,  hoped,  &c:  for  these  the  constitution  indi- 
vidual, and  particular  education,  do  so  vary,  and  they  are 
so  easy  to  be  kept  from  our  knowledge,  that  the  charac- 
ters of  man's  heart,  blotted  and  confounded  as  they  are 
with  dissembling,  lying,  counterfeiting,  and  erroneous 
doctrines,  are  legible  only  to  him  that  searcheth  hearts. 
And  though  by  men's  actions  we  do  discover  their  design 
sometimes;  yet  to  do  it  without  comparing  them  with 
our  own,  and  distinguishing  all  circumstances,  by  which 
the  case  may  come  to  be  altered,  is  to  decypher  without 
a  key,  and  be  for  the  most  part  deceived,  by  too  much 
trust,  or  by  too  much  diffidence ;  as  he  that  reads,  is  him- 
self a  good  or  evil  man. 

But  let  one  man  read  another  by  his  actions  never  so 
perfectly,  it  serves  him  only  with  his  acquaintance,  which 
are  but  few.  He  that  is  to  govern  a  whole  nation,  must 
read  in  himself,  not  this  or  that  particular  man;  but 
mankind:  which  though  it  be  hard  to  do,  harder  than 
to  learn  any  language  or  science ;  yet  when  I  shall  have 
set  down  my  own  reading  orderly,  and  perspicuously, 
the  pains  left  another,  will  be  only  to  consider,  if  he  also 
find  not  the  same  in  himself.  For  this  kind  of  doctrine 
admitteth  no  other  demonstration. 


1 


PART  L 

OF  MAN. 


\ 


^i^^^tt-  lytjt^^^f^. 


CHAPTER  I. 


OF  SENSE. 


Concerning  the  thoughts  of  man,  I  will  consider  them 
firstAingly,  and  afterwards  in  train,  or  dependence  upon 
one  another.  Singly,  they  are  every  one  a  representation 
or  appearance,  of  some  quality,  or  other  accident  of  a 
body  without  us,  which  is  commonly  called  an  object. 
Which  object  worketh  on  the  eyes,  ears,  and  other  parts 
of  a  man's  body ;  and  by  diversity  of  working,  produceth 
diversity  of  appearances. 

The  original  of  them  all,  is  that  which  we  call  sense, 
for  there  is  no  conception  in  a  man's  mind,  which  hath 
•  not  at  first,  totally  or  by  parts,  been  begotten  upon  the  or- 
gans of  sense.  The  rest  are  derived  from  that  original. 
To  know  the  natural  cause  of  sense,  is  not  very  nec- 
essary to  the  business  now  in  hand;  and  I  have  else- 
where written  of  the  same  at  large.  Nevertheless,  to  fill 
each  part  of  my  present  method,  I  will  briefly  deliver  the 
same  in  this  place. 

The  cause  of  sense,  is  the  external  body,  or  object, 
.  which  presseth  the  organ  proper  to  each  sense,  either 
immediately,  as  in  the  taste  and  touch ;  or  mediately,  as  in 
seeing,  hearing,  and  smelling;  which  pressure,  by  the 
mediation  of  the  nerves,  and  other  strings  and  mem- 
branes of  the  body,  continued  inwards  to  the  brain  and 


\ 


t 


1 


\ 


OF  SENSE 


heart,  causeth  there  a  resistance,  or  counter-pressure,  or 
endeavour  of  the  heart  to  deliver  itself,  which  endeavour, 
because  outward,  seemeth  to  be  some  matter  without. 
And  this  seeming,  or  fancy,  is  that  which  men  call 
sense;  and  consisteth,  as  to  the  eye,   in  a  light,   or 
colour  figured;  to  the  ear,  in  a  sound;  to  the  nostril,  in 
an  odour;  to  the  tongue  and  palate,  in  a  savour;  and  to 
the  rest  of  the  body,  in  heat,  cold,  hardness,  softness,  and 
such  other  qualities  as  we  discern  by  feeling.  All  which 
qualities,  called  sensible,  are  in  the  object,  that  causeth 
them,  but  so  many  several  motions  of  the  matter,  by 
which  it  presseth  our  organs  diversely.     Neither  in  us 
that  are  pressed,  are  they  any  thing  else,  but  divers  mo- 
tions ;  for  motion  produceth  nothing  but  niotipn.  But  their 
appearance  to  us  is  fancy,  the  same  waking,  that  dream- 
ing.    And  as  pressing,  rubbing,  or  striking  the  eye,  makes 
us  fancy  a  light ;  and  pressing  the  ear,  produceth  a  din ; 
so  do  the  bodies  also  we  see,  or  hear,  produce  the  same 
by  their  strong,  though  unobserved  action.    For  if  those 
colours  and  sounds  were  in  the  bodies,  or  objects  that 
cause  them,  they  could  not  be  severed  from  them,  as  by 
glasses,  and  in  echoes  by  reflection,  we  see  they  are; 
where  we  know  the  thing  we  see  is  in  one  place,  the  ap- 
pearance in  another.  And  though  at  some  certain  distance, 
the  real  and  very  object  seem  invested  with  the  fancy  it 
begets  in  us ;  yet  still  the  object  is  one  thing,  the  image 
or  fancy  is  another.    So  that  sense,  in  all  cases,  is  nothing 
else  but  original  fancy,  caused,  as  I  have  said,  by  the  pres- 
Isure,  that  is,  by  the  motion,  of  external  things  upon  our 
[eyes,  ears,  and  other  organs  thereunto  ordained. 

But  the  philosophy-schools,  through  all  the  universi- 
ties of  Christendom,  grounded  upon  certain  texts  of 
Aristotle,  teach  another  doctrine,  and  say,  for  the  cause 
of  vision,  that  the  thing  seen,  sendeth  forth  on  every  side 


*^, ,-/  .1 


X 


"■ 


U      ' 


t6  LEVIATHAN 

a  z'wi^/^  ^/>^ci>5,  in  English,  a  zn^'^/^  ^^ow,  apparition, 
or  (w/>ec/,  or  o  &^m^  ^e^n;  the  receiving  whereof  into  the 
eye  is  seeing.  And  for  the  cause  of  hearing,  that  the  thing 
heard,  sendeth  forth  an  audible  species,  that  is  an  audible 
aspect,  or  audible  being  seen;  which  entering  at  the  ear 
maketh  hearing.  /"Nay,  for  the  cause  of  understanding 
I  also,  they  say  the  thing  understood,  sendeth  forth  an 
I  mtelligible  species,  that  is,  an  intelligible  being  seen; 
which,  coming  into  the  understanding,  makes  us  under- 
stand.    I  say  not  this,  as  disproving  the  use  of  universi- 
ties ;  but  because  I  am  to  speak  hereafter  of  their  office  in 
a  ccimmonwealth,  I  must  let  you  see  on  all  occasions  by 
the  way,  what  things  would  be  amended  in  them ;  amongst 
which  the  frequency  of  insignificant  speech  is  one. 

I.   SUPPLEMENT   FROM 

ELEMENTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY, 

CHAPTER   XXV. 

Of  all  the  phenomena  or  appearances  which  are  near 
us,  the  most  admirable  is  apparition  itself,  rd  ^aivec^at; 
namely,  that  some  natural  bodies  have  in  themselves  the 
patterns  almost  of  all  things,  and  others  of  none  at  all.  So 
jthat  if  the  app^rances^ethe^^i^^         which  we  knpw 
all  other  things,  we  must  needs  acknowledge  sense  to  be 
the  principle  by  which  we  know  those  principles,  and 
that  all  the  knowledge  we  have  is  derived  from  it.    And 
as  for  the  causes  of  sense,  we  cannot  begin  our  search  of 
them  from  any  other  phenomenon  than  that  of  sense  itself. 
But  you  will  say,  by  what  sense  shall  we  take  notice  of 
sense?    I  answer,  by  sense  itself,  namely,  by  the  memory 
which  for  some  time  remains  in  us  of  things  sensible, 
though  they  themselves  pass  away.    For  he  that  perceives 
that  he  hath  perceived,  remembers. 


OF  SENSE 


«7 


}U.  3 


I 


i: 


/ 


Jll»^^lihru^ 


1 


(    b 


V-^ 


A...  / 


In  the  first  place,  therefore,  the  causes  of  our  percep- 
tion, that  is,  the  causes  of  those  ideas  and  phantasms 
which  are  perpetually  generated  within  us  whilst  we 
make  use  of  our  senses,  are  to  be  enquired  into;  and  in    ^ 
what  manner  their  generation  proceeds.    To  help  which   v 
inquisition,  we  may  observe  first  of  all,  that  our  phantasms 
or  ideas  are  not  always  the  same;  but  that  new  ones   ( 
appear  to  us,  and  old  ones  vanish,  according  as  we  apply 
our  organs  of  sense,  now  to  one  object,  now  to  another.    ^ 
Wherefore  they  are  generated  and  perish.     And  from 
hence  it  is  manifest,  that  they  are  some  change  or  muta-   ( 

tion  in  the  sentient. 

,^  Now  that  all  mutation  or  alteration  is  motion  or  en- 
deavour (and  endeavour  also  is  motion)  in  the  internal 
parts    of  the  thing  that  is  altered,  hath  been   proved 
from  this,  that  whilst  even  the  least  parts  of  any  body 
remain  in  the  same  situation  in  respect  of  one  another,  it 
cannot  be  said  that  any  alteration,  unless  perhaps  that 
the  whole  body  together  hath  been  moved,  hath  happened 
to  it ;  but  that  it  both  appeareth  and  is  the  same  it  ap- 
peared and  was  before.  /"Sense,  tiierefore,  in  the^^senjient,    ^^ 
can  be  nothmg^dseJuUlLOtion_ in  some  of  the  internal 
parts  of  the  sentient ;  and  the  parts  so  moved  are  parts 
of  the  organs  of  sense.    For  the  parts  of  our  body,  by  . 
which  we  perceive  anything,  are  those  we  commonly  call 
the  organs  of  sense.    And  so  we  find  what  is  the  subject 
of  our  sense,  namely,  that  in  which  are  the  phantasms ; 
and  partly  also  we  have  discovered  the  nature  of  sense, 
namely,  that  it  is  some  internal  motion  in  the  sentient. 

I  have  shown  besides  that  no  motion  is  generated  but 
by  a  body  contiguous  and  moved:  from  whence  it  is 
manifest,  that  the  immediate  cause  of  sense  or  percep- 
tion consists  in  this,  that  the  first  organ  of  sense  is  touched 
and  pressed.    For  when  the  uttermost  part  of  the  organ 


*lV,4,  %.      111* 


/  n  J 


I  *         i 


•-w/Tw^fc^-J. 


,_^Jt,  5  --■>^'- 


88  ,  LEVIATHAN 

is  pressed,  it  no  sooner  yields,  but  the  part  next  within 
it  is  pressed  also;  and,  in  thU  manner,  the  pressure  or 
motion  is  propagated  through  all  the  parts  of  the  organ 
to  the  innermost. /And  thus  also  the  pressure  of  the 
uttermost  part  proceeds  from  the  pressure  of  some  more 
remote  body,  and  so  continually,  till  we  come  to  that 
from  which,  as  from  its  fountain,  we  dtrive  the  phan- 
tasm or  idea  that  is  made  in  us  by  our  sense-  And  this, 
whatsMxerjLbe,  is  that  we  commonly_call  the  object. 
SenseT^il^d^,  is  some  internal  motion  in  the  sentient, 
generated  by  some  internal  motion  of  the  parts  of  the 
object,  and  propagated  through  all  the  media  to  the  inner- 
most part  of  the  organ.    By  which  words  I  have  almost 

defined  what  sense  is. 

Moreover,  I  have  shown  that  all  resistance  is  endeavour 
opposite  to  another  endeavour,  that  is  to  say,  reaction. 
Seeing,  therefore,  there  is  in  the  whole  organ,  by  reason 
of  its  own  internal  natural  motion,  some  resistance  or  re- 
action against  the  motion  which  is  propagated  from  the 
object  to  the  innermost  part  of  the  organ,  there  is  also  m 
the  same  organ  an  endeavour  opposite  to  the  endeavour 
which  proceeds  from  the  object ;  so  that  when  that  en- 
deavour inwards  is  the  last  action  in  the  act  of  sense,  then 
from  the  reaction,   how  little  soever  the  duration  of  it 
be,  a  phantasm  or  idea  hath  its  being;  which,  by  reason 
that  the  endeavour  is  now  outwards,  doth  always  appear 
I    as  something  situate  without  the  organ.    So  that  now  I 
*-    shall  give  you  the  whole  definition  of  sense,  as  it  is  drawn 
from  the  explication  of  the  causes  thereof  and  the  order 
of  its  generation,  thus:    sense  is  a  phant^,  made  by 
the  reaction  and  endeavour  outwards  in  the  or^anof  sense, 
caused  by  an  endeavour  inwards  from  the  object.\ranatn- 
ing  for  some  time  more  or  less. 

The  subject  of  sense  is  the  sentient  itself,  namely, 


OF  SENSE 


89 


i 


ii 


J, 


A 


some  living  creature ;  and  we  speak  more  correctly,  when    '  j^^l^^ 


^  say  a  living  creature  seeth,  than  when  we  say  the 
eve  seeth.     The  object  is  the  thing  received;  and  it 
is  more  accurately  said,  that  we  see  the  sun,  than  that  we 
see  the  light.    For  light  and  colour,  and  heat  and  sound, 
and  other  qualities  which  are  commonly  called  sensible, 
are  not  objects,  but  phantasms   in  thg_sentients.    For  a 
phantasm  is  the  sST^TTense,  and  differs  no  otherwise 
from  sense  than  Hen,  that  is,  being  a  doing,  differs  from 
iactum  esse,  that  is,  being  done;  which  difference,  m 
things  that  are  done  in  an  instant,  is  none  at  all ;  and  a 
phantasm  is  made  in  an  instant.  For  in  all  motion  wWch 
proceeds  by  perpetual  propagation,  the  first  part  bemg 
moved  moves  the  second,  the  second  the  third,  and  so  on 
to  the  last,  and  that  to  any  distance,  how  great  soever. 
And  in  what  point  of  time  the  first  or  foremost  part  pro- 
ceeded to  the  place  of  the  second,  which  is  thrust  on,  in  the 
same  point  of  time  the  last  save  one  proceeded  into  the 
place  of  the  last  yielding  part ;  which  by  reaction,  m  the 
same  instant,  if  the  reaction  be  strong  enough,  makes  a 
phantasm;  and  a  phantasm  being  made,  perception  is 

made  together  with  it. 

The  organs  of  sense,  which  are  in  the  sentient,  are 
such  parts  thereof,  that  if  they  be  hurt,  the  very  genera- 
tion of  phantasms  is  thereby  destroyed,  though  all  the  rest 
of  the  parts  remain  entire.  Now  these  parts  in  the  most 
of  living  creatures  are  found  to  be  certain  spirits  and 
membranes,  which,  proceeding  from  the  pia  mater,  in- 
volve the  brain  and  all  the  nerves ;  also  the  brain  itself, 
and  the  arteries  which  are  in  the  brain ;  and  such  other 
parts,  as  being  stirred,  the  heart  also,  which  is  the 
fountain  of  all  sense,  is  stirred  together  with  them. 
For  whensoever  the  action  of  the  object  reacheth  the 
body  of  the  sentient,  that  action  is  by  some  ner\'e  prop- 


>o.  ^ 


-,7wr/-/'^- 


r-<<-i/» 


ly 


M> 


,   T^ 


1^^' 


•^  ^1m>  ."^ 


90 


LEVIATHAN 


agated  to  the  brain;  and  if  the  nerve  leading  thither  be 
so  hurt  or  obstructed,  that  the  motion  can  be  propa- 
gated no  further,  no  sense  follows.  Also  if  the  motion 
be  intercepted  between  the  brain  and  the  heart  by  the 
defect  of  the  organ  by  which  the  actionTs^ropagated, 
there  will  be  no  perception  of  the  object. 

But  though  all  sense,  as  I  have  said,  be  made  by  re- 
action, nevertheless  it  is  not  necessary  that  every  thing 
that  reacteth  should  have  sense.     I  know  there  have 
been  philosophers,  and  those  learned  men,   who  have 
maintained  that  all  bodies  are  endued  with  sense.    Nor 
do  I  see  how  they  can  be  refuted,  if  the  nature  of  sense 
be  placed  in  reaction  only.    And,  though  by  the  reaction 
of  bodies    inanimate   a   phantasm   might   be   made,    it 
would  nevertheless  cease,  as  soon  as  ever  the  object  were 
removed.    For  unless  those  bodies  had  organs,  as  living 
creatures  have,  fit  for  the  retaining  of  such  motion  as  is 
made  in  them,  their  sense  would  be  such,  as  that  they 
should  never  remember  the  same.     And  therefore  this 
hath  nothing  to  do  with  that  sense  which  is  the  subject 
of  my  discourse!  For  by  sense,  we  commonly  understand 
the  judgment  we  make  of  objects  by  theii^hantasms ; 
"namely,  by  comparing   and    distinguishing  those   phan- 
tasms ;  which  we  could  never  do,  if  that  motion  in  the  or- 
gan, by  which  the  phantasm  is  made,  did  not  remain 
there  for  some  time,  and  make  the  same  phantasm  return. 
.Wherefore  sqise,  as  I  here  understand  it,  and  which  is 
commonly  so  called,  hath  necessarily  some  memory  ad- 
hering to  it,  by  which  former  and  later  phantasms  may  be 
compared  together,  and  distinguished  from  one  another. 

Sense,  therefore,  properly  so  called,  must  necessarily 
have  in  it  a  perpetual  variety  of  phantasms,  that  they 
may  be  discerned  one  from  another.  For  if  we  should 
suppose  a  man  to  be  made  with  clear  eyes,  and  all  the 


OF  SENSE 


1 


rest  of  his  organs  of  sight  well  disposed,  but  endued  with 
no  other  sense;  ai^d  that  he  should  look  only  upon  one 
thing,  which  is  always  of  the  same  colour  and  figure, with- 
out the  least  appearance  of  variety,  he  would  seem 
to  me,  whateoever  others  may  say,  to  see,  no  more  than 
I  seem  to  myself  to  feel  the  bones  of  my  own  limbs  by 
my  organs  of  feeling;  and  yet  those  bones  are  always 
and  on  all  sides  touched  by  a  most  sensible  membrane. 
I  might  perhaps  say  he  were  astonished,  and  looked  upon 
it ;  but  I  should  not  say  he  saw  it ;  it  being  almost  all  one 
for  a  man  to  be  always  sensible  of  one  and  the  same 
thing,  and  not  to  be  sensible  at  all  of  anything. 

And  yet  such  is  the  nature  of  sense,  that  it  does 
not  permit  a  man  to  discern  many  things  at  once.  For 
seeing  the  nature  of  sense  consists  in  motion;  as  long  as 
the  organs  are  employed  about  one  object,  they  cannot 
be  so  moved  by  another  at  the  same  time,  as  to  make  by 
both  their  motions  one  sincere  phantasm  of  each  of  them 
at  once.  And  therefore  two  ^s£yeralj)hantasms  will  not 
be  made  by  two  objects  working  together,  but  only  one 
phantasm  compounded  from  the  action  of  both-. 

Besides,  as  when  we  divide  a  body,  we  divide  its 
place;  and  when  we  reckon  many  bodies,  we  must  nec- 
essarily reckon  as  many  places ;  and  contrarily,  as  I  have 
shown  in  the  seventh  chapter;  so  what  number  soever  we 
/  say  there  be  of  times,  we  must  understand  the  same  num-\ 
\  ber  of  motions  also;  and  as  oft  as  we  count  many  motions,/ 
so  oft  we  reckon  many  times.    For  though  the  object  we 
look  upon  be  of  divers  colours,  yet  with  those  divers  col- 
ours it  is  but  one  varied  object,  and  not  variety  of  objects. 
Moreover,  whilst  those  organs  which  are  common  to 
all  the  senses,  such  as  are  those  parts  of  every  organ  which 
proceed  in  men  from  the  root  of  the  nerves  to  the  heart, 
are  vehemently  stirred  by  a  strong  action  from  some  one 


}-o.  1/ 


Ao,   / 


X,  J, 


^o 


M  LEVIATHAN 

object,  they  arc,  by  reason  of  the  contumacy  which  the  mo- 
tion, they  have  already,  gives  them  against  the  reception 
of  all  other  motion,  made  the  less  fit  to  receive  any  other 
impression  from  whatsoever  other  objects,  to  what  sense 
soever  those  objects  belong.    And  hence  it  is,  that  an 
earnest  studying  of  one  object,  takes  away  the  sense  of  all 
other  objects  for  the  present.    For  study  is  nothing  else 
but  a  possession  of  the  mind,  that  is  to  say,  a  vehement 
motion  made  by  some  one  object  in  the  organs  of  sense, 
which  are  stupid  to  all  other  motions  as  long  as  this  last- 
eth ;  according  to  what  was  said  by  Terence,  "Populus 
studio  stupidus  in  funambulo  animum  occuparat."    For 
what  is  stupor  but  that  which  the  Greeks  call  ivanr^rj^Tia, 
that    is,    a    cessation    from    the    sense  of  other  things  ? 
Wherefore  at  one  and  the  same  time,  we  cannot  by  sense 
perceive  more  than  one  single  object;  as  in  reading,  we 
see  the  letters  successively  one  by  one,  and  not  altogether, 
though  the  whole  page  be  presented  to  our    eye ;  and 
though  every  several  letter  be  distinctly  written  there, 
yet  when  we  look  upon  the  whole  page  at  once,  we  read 

nothing. 

From  hence  it  is  manifest,  that  every  endeavour  of  the 
organ  outwards,  is  not  to  be  called  sense,  but  that  only, 
which  at  several  times  is  by  vehemence  made  stronger 
and  more  predominant  than  the  rest;  which  deprives 
us  of  the  sense  of  other  phantasms,  no  otherwise  than  the 
sun  deprives  the  rest  of  the  stars  of  light,  not  by  hinder- 
ing  their  action,  but  by  obscuring  and  hiding  them  with 

his  excess  of  brightness. 

*********** 
In  most  Hving  creatures  there  are  observed  five  kinds 
of  senses,    which  are  distinguished  by  their  organs,  and 
by  their  different  kinds  of  phantasms ;  namely,  sight,  hear- 
ing, smell,  taste,  and  touch;  and  these  have  their  organs 


OF  SENSE 


93 


partly  peculiar,  to  each  of  them  severally,  and  partly  com- 
mon to  them  all.    The  organ  of  sight  is  partly  animate 
and  partly  inanimate.    The  inanimate  parts  are  the  three 
humours ;  namely,  the  watery  humour,  which  by  the  inter- 
position of  the  membrane  called  uvea,  the  perforation 
whereof  is  called  the  apple  of  the  eye,  is  contained  on  one 
side  by  the  first  concave  superficies  of  the  eye,  and  on  the 
other  side  by  the  ciliary  processes,  and  the  coat  of  the 
crystalline  humour;  the  crystalline,  which,  hanging  in 
the  midst  between  the  ciliary  processes,  and  being  almost 
of  spherical  figure,  and  of  a  thick  consistence,  is  enclosed 
on  all  sides  with  its  own  transparent  coat;  and  the  vit- 
reous or  glassy  humour,  which  fiUeth  all  the  rest  of  the 
cavity  of  the  eye,  and  is  somewhat  thicker  than  the  wat- 
ery humour,  but  thinner  than  the  crystalline.    The  ani- 
mate part  of  the  organ  is,  first,  the  membrane  choroeides, 
which  is  a  part  of  the  pia  mater,  saving  that  it  is  covered 
with  a  coat  derived  from  the  marrow  of  the  optic  nerve, 
which  is  called  the  retina;  and  this  choroeides,  seeing  it 
is  part  of  the  pia  mater,  is  continued  to  the  beginning 
of  the  medulla  spinalis  within  the  scull,  in  which  all  the 
nerves  which   are   within   the  head   have   their   roots- 
Wherefore  all  the  animal  spirits  that  the  nerves  receive, 
enter  into  them  there ;  for  it  is  not  imaginable  that  they 
can  enter  into  them    anywhere    else.      Seeing  therefore 
sense  is  nothing  else  but  the  action  of  objects  propagated 
to  the  furthest  part  of  the^^anj  and  seeing  also  that 
animal  spirits  are  nothing  but  vital  spirits  purified  by  the 
heart,  and  carried  from  it  by  the  arteries ;  it  follows  neces- 
sarily, that  the  action  is  derived  from  the  heart  by  some 
of  the  arteries  to  the  roots  of  the  nerves  which  are  in  the 
head,  whether  those  arteries  be  the  plexus  retiformis,  or 
whether  they  be  other  arteries  which  are  inserted  into  the 
substance  of  the  brain.     And,  therefore,  those  arteries 


i 


•k 


m. 


94 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  SENSE 


m 


|M> 


/<ui 


h^.    2 


are  the  complement  or  the  remaining  part  of  the  whole 
organ  of  sight.  And  this  last  part  is  a  common  organ 
to  all  the  senses ;  whereas,  that  which  reacheth  from  the 
eye  to  the  roots  of  the  nerves  is  proper  only  to  sight. 
The  proper  organ  of  hearing  is  the  tympanum  of  the  ear 
and  its  own  nerve ;  from  which  to  the  heart  the  organ 
is  common.  So  the  proper  organs  of  smell  and  taste  are 
nervous  membranes,  in  the  palate  and  tongue  for  the 
taste,  and  in  the  nostrils  for  the  smell;  and  from  the  roots 
of  those  nerves  to  the  heart  all  is  common.  Lastly,  the 
proper  organ  of  touch  are  nerves  and  membranes  dispers- 
ed through  the  whole  body ;  which  membranes  are  derived 
from  the  root  of  the  nerves.  And  all  things  else  belong- 
ing alike  to  all  the  senses  seem  to  be  administered  by  the 
arteries,  and  not  by  the  nerves. 

The  proper  phantasm  of  sight  is  light ;  and  under  this 
name  of  light,  colour  also,  which  is  nothing  but  perturbed 
light,  is  comprehended.  Wherefore  the  phantasm  of  a  lu- 
cid body  is  light ;  and  of  a  coloured  body,  colour.    But 
the  object  of  sight,  properly  so  called,  is  neither  light 
nor  colour,  but  the  body  itself  which  is  lucid,  or  enlight- 
ened, or  coloured.     For   light   and   colour,  being  phan-. 
tasms  of  the  sentient,  cannot  be  accidents  of  the  object. 
Which  is  manifest  enough  from  this,  that  visible  things 
appear  oftentimes  in  places  in  which  we  know  assuredly 
they    are    not,    and    that    in    different    places    they 
are     of     different     colours,     and     may     at     one     and 
the     same     time     appear     in     divers     places.       Mo- 
tion, rest,  magnitude  and  figure,  are  common  both  to  the 
sight  and  touch;  and  the  whole  appearance  together  of 
figure,  and  light  or  colour,  is  by  the  Greeks  commonly 
called  ef^oy,  and  eidwXov^  and  ISia;  and  by  the  Latins, 
species  and  imag^c?;  all  which  names  signify  no  more  but 
appearance. 


•  The  phantasm,  which  is  made  by  heitnng,  is  sound ; 
by  smell,  odour;  by  taste,  savour;  and  by  touch,  hard- 
ness and  softness,  heat  and  cold,  wetness,  oiliness,  and 
,  many  more,  which  are  easier  to  be  distinguished  by 
sense  than  words.  Smoothness,  roughness,  rarity,  and 
density,  refer  to  figure,  and  are  therefore  common  both 
to  touch  and  sight.  And  as  for  the  objects  of  hear- 
ing, smell,  taste,  and  touch,  they  are  not  sound,  odour, 
savour,  hardness,  &c.,  but  the  bodies  themselves  from 
which  sound,  odour,  savour,  hardness,  &c.  proceed;  of 
the  causes  of  which,  and  of  the  manner  how  they  are 
produced,  I  shall  speak  hereafter. 

But  these  phantasms,  though  they  be  effects  in  the 
sentient,  as  subject,  produced  by  objects  working  upon 
the  organs ;  yet  there  are  also  other  effects  besides  these, 
produced  by  the  same  objects  in  the  same  organs ;  name- 
ly certain  motions  proceeding  from  sense,  which  are 
called  animal  motions.  For  seeing  in  all  sense  of  exter- 
nal things  there  is  mutual  action  and  reaction,  that  is, 
two  endeavours  opposing  one  another,  it  is  manifest  that 
the  motion  of  both  of  them  together  will  be  continued 
every  way,  especially  to  the  confines  of  both  the  bodies. 
And  when  this  happens  in  the  internal  organ,  the  en- 
deavour outwards  will  proceed  in  a  solid  angle,  which 
will  be  greater,  and  consequently  the  idea  greater,  than 
it  would  have  been  if  the   impression  had  been  weaken 

n.    SUPPLEMENT   FROM 

HUMAN   NATURP:. 

'  CHAPTER   II. 

Originally  all  conceptions  proceed  from  the  action       /^  ^ 
of  the  thing  itself,    whereoh\kis    the    conception :  now  *    ^^to./ 
when  the  action  is  present,  the  conception  it  producetb  • 


7u%. 


%  3^^/Z 


^  t^  >^ 


,6  LEVIATHAN 

18  also  called  sense;  and  the  thing  by  whose  action  the 
same  is  produced,  is  called  the  object  of  the  sense. 

By  our  several  organs  we  have  several  conceptions 
of  several  qualities  in  the  objects;  for  by  sight  we  have 
a  conception  or  image  composed  of  colour  and  figure, 
which  is  all  the  notice  and  knowledge  the  object  im- 
parteth  to  us  of  its  nature  by  the  eye.  By  hearing  we 
have  a  conception  called  sound,  which  is  all  the  knowl- 
edge we  have  of  the  quality  of  the  object  from  the  ear. 
And  so  the  rest  of  the  senses  are  also  conceptions  of  sev- 
eral qualities,  or  natures  of  their  objects. 

Because  the  image  in  vision  consisting  of  colour  and 
shape  is  the  knowledge  we  have  of  the  qualities  of  the 
object  of  that  sense ;  it  is  no  hard  matter  for  a  man  to 
fall  into  this  opinion,  that  the  same  colour  and  shape 
are  the  very  qualities  themselves;  and  for  the  same 
cause,  that  sound  and  noise  are  the  qualities  of  the  bell, 
or  of  the  air.  And  this  opinion  hath  been  so  long  re- 
ceived, that  the  contrary  must  needs  appear  a  great  par- 
adox ;  and  yet  the  introduction  of  species  visible  and  in- 
telligible  (which  is  necessary  for  the  maintenance  of 
that  opinion)  passing  to  and    fro    from    the  object,  is 
worse  than  any  paradox,  as  being  a  plain  impossibility. 
I  shall  therefore  endeavor  to  make  plain  these  points: 
That  the  subject  wherein  colour  and  image  are  in- 
herent, is  not  the  object  or  thing  seen. 

That  there  is  nothing  without  us  (really)  which  we 
call  an  image  or  colour. 

That  the  said  image  or  colour  is  but  an  apparition 
unto  us  of  the  motion,  agitation,  or  alteration,  which  the 
object  worketh  in  the  brain,  or  spirits,  or  some  internal 
substance  of  the  head. 

That  as  in  vision,  so  also  in  conceptions  that  arise 
from  the  other  senses,  the  subject  of  their  inherence  is 
not  the  object,  but  the  sentient. 


^^ 


OF  SENSE 


W 


Every  man  hath  so  much  experience  as  to  have  seen 
the  sun  and  the  other  visible  objects  by  reflection  in  the 
water  and  glasses;  and  this  alone  is  sufficient  for  this 
conclusion,  that  colour  and  image  may  be  there  where 
the  thing  seen  is  not.  But  because  it  may  be  said  that 
notwithstanding  the  image  in  the  water  be  not  in  the  ob- 
ject, but  a  thing  merely  phantastical,  yet  there  may  be 
colour  really  in.  thejthing  itself:  I  will  urge  further  this 
experience,  that  divers  times  men  see  directly  the  same 
object  double,  as  two  candles  for  one,  which  may  happen 
from  distemper,  or  otherwise  without  distemper  if  a  man 
will,  the  organs  being  either  in  their  right  temper,  oi 
equally  distempered ;  the  colours  and  figures  in  two  such 
images  of  the  same  thing  cannot  be  inherent  therein, 
because  the  thing  seen  cannot  be  in  two  places. 

One  of  these  images  therefore  is  not  inherent  in  the 
object:  but  seeing  the  organs  of  the  sight  are  then  in 
equal  temper  or  distemper,  the  one  of  them  is  no  more 
inherent  than  the  other;  and  consequently  neither  of 
them  both  are  in  the  object ;  which  is  the  first  proposition, 
mentioned  in  the  precedent  number. 

Secondly,  that  the  image  of  any  thing  by  refiection  in 
a  glass  or  water  or  the  like,  is  not  any  thing  in  or  be- 
hind the  glass,  or  in  or  under  the  water,  every  man  may 
grant  to  himself ;  which  is  the  second  proposition. 

For  the  third,  we  are  to  consider,  first  that  upon  every 
great  agitation  or  concussion  of  the  brain  (as  it  happen- 
eth  from  a  stroke,  especially  if  the  stroke  be  lipon 
the  eye)  wTiereby  the  optic  nerve  sufFereth  any  great  vio- 
lence, there  appeareth  before  the  eyes  a  certain  light, 
which  light  is  nothing  without,  but  an  apparition  only, 
all  that  is  real  being  the  concussion  or  motion  of  the 
parts  of  that  nerve;  from  which  experience  we  may 
conclude,  that  apparition  of  light  is  really  nothing  but 


h 


z_ 


K^ 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  SENSE 


*.*■■ 


rV'**' 


99 


motion  within.  If  therefore  irom  lucid  bodies  there 
can  be  derived  motion,  so  as  to  affect  the  optic  nerve 
in  such  mariner  as  is  proper  thereunto,  there  will  follow 
an  image  of  light  somewhere  in  that  line  by  which  the 
motion  was  last  derived  to  the  eye ;  that  is  to  say,  in  the 
object,  if  we  look  directly  on  it,  and  in  the  glass  or  water, 
when  we  look  upon  it  in  the  line  of  reflection,  which  in 
effect  is  the  third  proposition;  namely,  that  image  and 
colour  is  but  an  apparition  to  us  of  that  motion,  agita- 
tion, or  alteration  which  the  object  worketh  in  the  brain 
or  spirits,  or  some  internal  substance  in  the  head. 

But  that  from  all  lucid,  shining  and  illuminate  bodies, 
there  is  a  motion  produced  to  the  eye,  and,  through  the 
eye,  to  the  optic  nerve,  and  so  into  the  brain,  by  which 
that  apparition  of  light  or  colour  is  affected,  is  not  hard 
to  prove.  And  first,  it  is  evident  that  the  £re,  the  only 
lucid  body  here  upon  earth,  worketh  by  motion  equally 
every  way ;  insomuch  as  the  motion  thereof  stopped  or 
inclosed,  it  is  presently  extinguished,  and  no  more  fire. 
And  further,  that  that  motion,  whereby  the  fire  work^ 
eth,  is  dilation,  and  contraction  of  itself  alternately,  com- 
monly called  scintillation  or  glowing,  is  manifest  also  by 
experience.  From  such  motion  in  the  fire  must  needs 
arise  a  rejection  or  casting  from  itself  of  that  part  of 
the  medium  which  is  contiguous  to  it,  whereby  that  part 
^Iso  rejecteth  the  next,  and  so  successively  one  part  beat- 
eth  back  another  to  the  very  eye;  and  in  the  same  man- 
ner the  exterior  part  of  the  eye  presseth  the  interior,  (the 
Jaws  of  refraction  still  observed).  Now  the  interior 
coat  of  the  eye  is  nothing  else  but  a  piece  of  the  optic 
nerve ;  and  therefore  the  motion  is  still  continued  there- 
by into  the  brain,  and  by  resistance  or  reaction  of  the 
brain,  is  also  a  rebound  into  the  optic  nerve  again; 
which  we  noi  conceiving  2ls  motion  or  rebound   from 


within,  do  think  it  is  zvithout,  and  call  it  light;  2ls  hath 
been  already  shewed  by  the  experience  of  a  stroke.  We 
have  no  reason  to  doubt,  that  the  fountain  of  light,  the 
sun,  worketh  by  any  other  ways  than  the  fire,  at  least 
in  this  matter.  And  thus  all  vision  hath  its  original 
from  such  motion  as  is  here  described:  for  where  there 
is  no  light,  there  is  no  sight;  and  therefore  colour 
also  must  be  the  same  thing  with  light,  as  being  the 
effect  of  the  lucid  bodies:  their  difference  being  only 
this,  that  when  the  light  cometh  directly  from  the  foun- 
tain to  the  eye,  or  indirectly  by  reflection  from  clean  and 
polite  bodies,  and  such  as  have  not  any  particular  mo- 
tion internal  to  alter  it,  we  call  it  light;  but  when  it 
cometh  to  the  eye  by  reflection  from  uneven,  rough,  and 
coarse  bodies,  or  such  as  are  affected  with  internal 
motion  of  their  own  that  may  alter  it,  then  we  call  it 
colour;  colour  and  light  differing  only  in  this,  that  the 
one  is  pure,  and  the  other  perturbed  light.  By  that 
which  hath  been  said,  not  only  the  truth  of  the  third 
proposition,  but  also  the  whole  manner  of  producing 
light  and  colour,  is  apparent. 

As  colour  is  not  inherent  in  the  object,  but  an  effect 
thereof  upon  us,  caused  by  such  motion  in  the  object,  as 
hath  been  described :  so  neither  is  sound  in  the  thing  we 
hear,  but  in  ourselves.  One  manifest  sign  thereof  is,  that 
as  a  man  may  see,  so  also  he  may  hear  double  or  treble, 
by  multiplication  of  echoes,  which  echoes  are  sounds 
as  well  as  the  original;  and  not  being  in  one  and  the 
same  place,  cannot  be  inherent  in  the  body  that  maketh 
them.  Nothing  can  make  anything  which  is  not  in  itself : 
the  clapper  hath  no  sound  in  it,  but  motion,  and  maketh 
motion  in  the  internal  parts  of  the  bell;  so  the  bell  hath 
motion,  and  not  sound,  that  imparteth  motion  to  the  air; 
and  the  air  hath  motion,  but  not  sound ;  the  air  imparteth 


100 


LEVIATHAN 


'Yo 


>-\ 


motion  by  the  ear  and  nerve  unto  the  brain;  and  the  brain 
hath  motion  but  not  sound;  from  the  brain,  it  rebound- 
cth  back  into  the  nerves  outward,  and  thence  it  becometh 
an  apparition  without,  which  we  call  sound.  And  to 
proceed  to  the  rest  of  the  senses,  it  is  apparent  enough, 
that  the  smell  and  taste  of  the  same  thing,  are  not  the 
same  to  every  man;  and  therefore  are  not  in  the  thing 
smelt  or  tasted,  but  in  the  men.  So  likewise  the  heat  we 
feel  from  the  fire  is  manifestly  in  us,  and  is  quite  dif- 
ferent from  the  heat  which  is  in  the  fire:  for  our  heat  is 
pleasure  or  pain,  according  as  it  is  great  or  moderate; 
but  in  the  coal  there  is  no  such  thing.  By  this  the  fourth 
and  last  proposition  is  proved,  viz.  that  as  in  vision,  so 
also  the  conceptions  that  arise  from  other  senses,  the  sub- 
ject of  their  inherence  is  not  in  the  object,  but  in  the  sen- 
tient. 

And  from  hence  also  it  foUoweth,  that  whatsoever 
accidents  or  qualities  our  senses  make  us  think  there  be 
in  the  world,  they  be  not  there,  but  are  seeming  and 

Ia^ariiions  only :  the  things  that  really  are  in  the  world 
without  us,  are  those  motions  by  which  these  seemings 
are  caused.  And  this  is  ^he  ^reat  deception  of  sen.se, 
which  also  is  to  be  by  sense  corrected:  for  as  sense  telleth 
me,  when  I  see  directly,  that  the  colour  seemeth  to  be  in 
the  object;  so  also  sense Jelleth  me,  when  I  see  by  re- 
flection, that  colour  is  not  in  the  object. 


CHAPTER  II. 


OF   IMAGINATION. 


That  when  a  thing  lies  still,  unless  somewhat  else  stir' 
it,  it  will  lie  still  for  ever,  is  a  truth  that  no  man  doubts 
of.    But  that  when  a  thing  is  in  motion,  it  will  eternally 
be  in  motion,  unless  somewhat  else  stay  it,  though  the 
reason  be  the  same,  namely,  that  nothing  can  change  it- 
self, is  not  so  easily  assented  to.    For  men  measure,  not 
only  other  men,  but   all   other   things,   by    themselves; 
and  because  they  find  themselves  subject  after  motion, 
to  pain,  and  lassitude,  think  everything  else  grows  weary 
of  motion,  and  seeks  repose  of  its  own  accord ;  little  con- 
sidering, whether  it  be  not  some  other  motion,  wherein 
that  desire  of  rest  they  find  in  themselves,  consisteth. 
From  hence  it  is,  that  the  schools  say,  heavy  bodie^Jall 
downwards,  out  of  an  appetite  to  rest,  and  to  conserve 
their  nature  in  tkat  place  which  is  most  proper  for  them ; 
ascribing  appetite,  and  knowledge  of  what  is  good  for 
'  their  conservation,  which  is  more  than  man  has,  to  things 
inanimate,  absurdly. 

When  a  body  is  once  in  motion,  it  moveth,  unless 
something  else  hinder  it,  eternally ;  and  whatsoever  hind- 
ereth  it  cannot  in  an  instant,  but  in  time,  and  by  de- 
grees, quite  extinguish  it;  and  as  we  see  in  the  water, 
though  the  wind  cease,  the  waves  give  not  over  rolling 
for  a  long  time  after :  so  also  it  happeneth  in  that  motion, 
which  is  made  in  the  internal  parts  of  a  man,  then,  when  he 

(sees,  dreams,  &c.  For  after  the  object  is  removed,  or  the 
eye  shut,  we  still  retain  an  image  of  the  thing  seen,  though 
more  obscure  than  when  we  see  it.  And  this  is  it,  the 
Latins  call  imagination,  from  the  image  made  in  seeing:; 


) 


LEVIATHAN 


^ 


and  apply  the  same,  though  improperly,  to  all  the  other 
senses.  But  the  Greeks  call  it  fancy;  which  signifies  ap- 
pearance, and  is  as  proper  to  one  sense,  as  to  another. 
Imagination  therefore  is  nothing  but  decaying  sense; 
and  is  found  in  men,  and  many  other  living  creatures,  as 
well  sleeping,  as  waking. 

/  The  decay  of  sense  in  men  waking,  is  not  the  decay 
of  the  motion  made  in  sense;  but  an  obscuring  of  it,  in 
'  such  manner  as  the  light  of  the  sun  obscureth  the  light 
of  the  stars ;  which  stars  do  no  less  exercise  their  virtue, 
by  which  they  are  visible,  in  the  day  than  in  the  night. 
But  because  amongst  many  strokes,  which  our  eyes,  ears, 
and  other  organs  receive  from  external  bodies,  the  pre- 
dominant only  is  sensible ;  therefore,  the  light  of  the  sun 
being  predominant,  we  are  not  affected  with  the  action  of 
the  stars.  And  any  object  being  removed  from  our  eyes, 
though  the  impression  it  made  in  us  remain,  yet  other  ob- 
jects more  present  succeeding,  and  working  on  us,  the 
imagination  of  the  past  is  obscured,  and  made  weak,  as 
the  voice  of  a  man  is  in  the  noise  of  the  day.  From  whence 
it  followeth,  that  the  longer  the  time  is,  after  the  sight 
or  sense  of  any  object,  the  weaker  is  the  imagination. 

I  For  the  continual  change  of  man's  body  destroys  in  time 
the  parts  which  in  sense  were  moved:  so  that  distance 
of  time,  and  of  place,  hath  one  and  the  same  effect  in  us. 
For  as  at  a  great  distance  of  place,  that  which  we  look 
at  appears  dim,  and  without  distinction  of  the  smaller 
parts ;  and  as  voices  grow  weak,  and  inarticulate ;  so  also, 
after  great  distance  of  time,  our  imagination  of  the  past 
is  weak ;  and  we  lose,  for  example,  of  cities  we  have  seen, 
many  particular  streets,  and  of  actions,  many  particular 
circumstances.^    This  decaying  sense,  when  we  would  ex- 


'Compare  Elements  of  Philosophy,   (M..  I,  396).     "But  the 


OF  IMAQINATION 


103 


f  press  the  thing  itself,  I  mean  fancy  itself,  we  call  imagina^_ 
\tion,  as  I  said  before :  but  when  we  would  express  the  de- 
cay;~and  signffy  that  the  sense  is  fading;  old,  and  past, 
it-trx:tnedjnemory.     So  that  imagination  and  memory  ^  v^^^^r^ 
arTbut^one  thing,  which  for  divers  considerations  hath 
diversTiames.^ 


motion  of  the  organ,  by  which  a  phantasm  is  made,  is  not  com- 
monly  called  sense,  except  the  object  be  present.  And  the  phan- 
tasm-remaining after  the  object  is  renioved  or  past  by.  is  called 

fancy,  and  in  Latin  imaginatio ;  which  word,  because  all  phan- 
tasms  are  not  images,  doth  not  fully  answer  the  signification 
of  the  word  fancy  in  its  general  acceptation.     Nevertheless  1 
may  use  it  safely  enough  by   understanding  it  for  the  Greek 
*aiJTa<rfo.   (IMAGINATION    therefore    is   nothing    else    but    sense} 
decaying,  or  weakened,  by  the  absence  of  the  object.    But  what  ( 
may  be  the  cause  of  this  decay  or  weakening  ?    Is  the  motion  the  ^ 
weaker,  because  the  object  is  taken  away?     If  it   were,  then 
phantasms   would  always  and  necessarily  be  less  clear  m  the 
imagination,  than  they  are  in  sense;  which  is  not  true,     l-or  m 
dreams,  which  are  the  imaginations  of  those  that  sleep,  they 
are  no  less  clear  than  in  sense  itself.     But  the  reason  why  in 
men   waking  the  phantasms   of   things   past  are  more   obscure 
than  those  of  things  present,  is  this,  that  their  organs  being  at 
the  same  time  moved  by  other  present  objects   those  phantasms 
are  the  less  predominant.     Whereas  in  sleep,  the  Passages  being 
shut  up,  external  action  doth  not  at  all  disturb  or  hinder  internal 
motion."     Compare  also  Questions  Concerning  Liberty  (M.   V. 
^tiS-iSQ)       "If  the  Bishop  had  observed  what  he  does  himselt, 
when  he  deliberates,  reasons,  understands,  or  imagines,  he  would 
have  known  what  to  make  of  all  I  have  said  in  this  Number 
He  would  have  known  that  considej^tion,  understanding,  reason.    |  • 
and  all  the  passions  of  the  mind,  are  imaginations.    That  to  con- 

*  sidcr  a  thing,  is  to  imagine  it;  that  to  understand  a  thing,  1% 
to  imagine  it;  that  to  hope  and  fear,  are  to  imagine  the  things 
hoped  for  and  feared.  The  difference  between  them  is,  that  when 
we  imagine  the  consequence  of  anything,  we  are  said  to  consider 
that  thing;  and  when  we  have  imagined  anything  from  a_^n,i 
and  especially  from  those  signs  we  call  names,  we  are  said  to 
understand  his  meaning  that  maketh  the  sign;  and  when  weJ 
reason,  we  imagine  the  consequence  of  affirmations  and  nega- 
tions joined  together;  and  when  we  hope  or  fear,  we  imagine 
things  good  or  hurtful  to  ourselves:  insomuch  as  all  these  arc 
but  imaginations  diversely  named  from  different  circumstances : 
as  any  man  may  perceive  as  easily  as  he  can  look  mto  his  own 
thoughts." 

2  Compare    Elements    of    Philosophy,     (M.  I,  398).      "For 


104 


LEVIATHAN 


I  Much  memory,  or  memory  of  many  things,  is  called 
experience.*  Again,  imagination  being  only  of  those 
)|  things  which  have  been  formerly  perceived  by  sense,  either 
all  at  once,  or  by  parts  at  several  times ;  the  former,  which 
is  the  imagining  the  whole  object  as  it  was  presented 
to  the  sense,  is  simple  imagination,  as  when  one  imag-« 

♦orrdfecrtfot  and  memimsset  fancy  and  memory ^  di£fer  only  in  this, 
that  memory  supposeth  the  time  past,  which  fancy  doth  not.  In 
memory,  the  phantasms  we  consider  are  as  if  they  were  worn 
out  with  time;  but  in  our  fancy  we  consider  them  as  they 
are;  which  distinction  is  not  of  the  things  themselves,  but  of 
the  considerations  of  the  sentient.  For  there  is  in  memory 
something  like  that  which  happens  in  looking  upon  things  at 
a  great  distance;  in  which  as  the  small  parts  of  the  object  arc 
not  discerned,  by  reason  of  their  remoteness;  so  in  memory, 
many  accidents  and  places  and  parts  of  things,  which  were  for- 
merly perceived  by  sense,  are  by  length  of  time  decayed  and 
lost."    Also  Human  Nature    (M.  IV,  12).     "For  the  manner 

I  by  which  we  take  notice  of  a  conception  pasty  we  are  to  remem- 

I  ber,  that  in  the  definition  of  imagination,  it  is  said  to  be  a  con- 
ception by  little  and  little  decaying,  or  growing  more  obscure. 

j  An  obscure  conception  is  that  which  representeth  the  whole  ob- 
ject together,  but  none  of  the  smaller  parts  by  themselves;  and 

j  as  more  or  fewer  parts  be  represented,  so  is  the  conception  or 
representation  said  to  be  more  or  less  clear.    Seeing  then  the  con- 

I  ception,  which  when  it  was  first  produced  by  sense,  was  clear, 
and  represented  the  parts  of  the  object  distinctly;  and  when  it 
cometh  again  is  obscure,  we  find  missing  somewhat  that  we 
expected ;  by  which  we  judge  it  past  and  decayed.  For  example, 
a  man  that  is  present  in  a  foreign  city,  seeth  not  only  whole 
streets,  but  can  also  distinguish  particular  houses,  and  parts 
of  houses;  but  departed  thence,  he  cannot  distinguish  them  so 
particularly  in  his  mind  as  he  did,  some  house  or  turning  escap- 
mg  him ;  yet  is  this  to  remember:  when  afterwards  there  escape 
him  more  particulars,  this  is  also  to  remember,  but  not  so  well. 
In  process  of  time,  the  image  of  the  city  returneth  but  as  a  mass 

I  of  building  only,  which  is  almost  to  have  forgotten  it.  Seeing 
then  remembrance  is  more  or  less,  as  we  find  more  or  less 
obscurity,  why  may  not  we  well  think  remembrance  to  be  noth- 
ing else  but  the  missing  of  parts,  which  every  man  expecteth 
should  succeed  after  they  have  a  conception  of  the  whole?  To 
see  at  a  great  distance  of  place,  and  to  remember  at  a  great  dis- 
tance of  time,  is  to  have  like  conceptions  of  the  thing:  for  there 
wanteth  distinction  of  parts  in  both;  the  one  conception  being 
weak  by  operation  at  distance,  the  other  by  decay." 

•Compare  Human  Nature,  (M.  IV,  16).  "The  remembrance 


1 


OF  IMAGINATION 


105 


ineth  a  man,  or  horse,  which  he  hath  seen  before.    The 
( other  is  compounded;  as  when,  from  the  sight  of  a  man 
S  at  one  time,  and  of  a  horse  at  another,  we  conceive  m 
i  our  mind  a  Centaur.    So  when  a  man  compoundeth  the 
image  of  his  own  person  with  the  image  of  the  actions 
of  another  man,  as  when  a  man  imagines  himself  a  Hercu- 
les or  an  Alexander,  which  happeneth  often  to  them  that 
are  much  taken  with  reading  of  romances,  it  is  a  com- 
pound imagination,  and  properly  but  a  fiction  of  the  mmd. 
There  be  also  other  imaginations  that  rise  in  men,  though 
waking,  from  the  great  impression  made  in  sense :  as  f roni 
gazing  upon  the  sun,  the  impression  leaves  an  image  of 
the  sun  before  our  eyes  a  long  time  after ;  and  from  be- 
ing long  and  vehemently  attent  upon  geometrical  figures, 
a  man  shall  in  the  dark,  though  awake,  have  the  images 
of  lines  and  angles  before  his  eyes;  which  kind  of  fancy 
hath  no  particular  name,  as  being  a  thing  that  doth  not 
commonly  fall  into  men's  discourse. 

iThe  imaginations  of  them  that  sleep  are  those  we  call 
dreams.  And  these  also,  as  all  other  imaginations,  have 
been  before,  either  totally  or  by  parcels,  in  the  sense.  And 
because  in  sense,  the  brain  and  nerves,  which  are  the  nec- 
essary organs  of  sense,  are  so  benumbed  in  sleep,  as  not 
easily  to  be  moved  by  the  action  of  external  objects,  there 
can  happen  in  sleep  no  imagination,  and  therefore  no 
dream,  but  what  proceeds  from  the  agitation  of  the  mward 


of  succession  of  one  thing  to  another,  that  is  of  what  was 
antecedent,  and  what  consequent,  and  what  ^^»»'^'J^'«*','jf ;J/ 
called  an  experiment;  whether  the  same  be  made  by  us  t;o/- 
untarih,  as  when  a  man  putteth  any  thing  mto  the  fire  to  see 
what  effect  the  fire  will  produce  upon  it:  or  no*  made  by  us, 
as  when  we  remember  a  fair  morning  _  after  _a  red_ev£ning. 
To  have  had  many  experimenfi;  i^what  we  caff  .^^^^^^^^ 
which  is  nothing  else  but  remembrance  of  what  antecedents  have 
been  followed  by  what  consequents. 


JLcU*- 


i 
I 


io6 


LEVIATHAN 


I 


parts  of  man's  body ;  which  inwarcj  parts,  for  the  connex- 
ion they  have  with  the  brain,  and  other  organs,  when  they 
be  distempered,  do  keep  the  same  in  motion ;  whereby  the 
imaginations  there  formerly  made,  appear  as  if  a  man 
were  waking ;  saving  that  the  organs  of  sense  being  now 
benumbed,  so  as  there  is  no  new  object,  which  can  master 
and  obscure  them  with  a  more  vigorous  impression,  a 
dream  must  needs  be  more  clear,  in  this  silence  of  sense, 
than  our  waking  thoughts.  And  hence  it  cometh  to 
pass,  that  it  is  a  hard  matter,  and  by  many  thought  im- 
possible, to  disting^iish  exactly  between  sense  and  dream- 
ing. For  my  part,  when  I  consider  that  in  dreams 
I  do  not  often  nor  constantly  think  of  the  same  persons, 
places,  objects,  and  actions,  that  I  do  waking;  nor  remem- 
ber so  long  a  train  of  coherent  thoughts,  dreaming,  as  at 
other  times ;  and  because  waking  I  often  observe  the  ab- 
surdity of  dreams,  but  never  dream  of  the  absurdities  of 
my  waking  thoughts;  I  am  well  satisfied,  that  being 
awake,  I  know  I  dream  not,  though  when  I  dream  I  think 
myself  awake. 

And  seeing  dreams  are  caused  by  the  distemper  of  some 
of  the  inward  parts  of  the  body,  divers  distempers  must 
needs  cause  different  dreams.  And  hence  it  is  that  lying 
cold  breedeth  dreams  of  fear,  and  raiseth  the  thought  and 
image  of  some  fearful  object,  the  motion  from  the  brain 
to  the  inner  parts  and  from  the  inner  parts  to  the  brain  be- 
ing reciprocal;  and  that  as  anger  causeth  heat  in  some 
parts  of  the  body  when  we  are  awake,  so  when  we  sleep  the 
overheating  of  the  same  parts  causeth  anger,  and  raiseth 
up  in  the  brain  the  imagination  of  an  enemy.  In  the  same 
manner,  as  natural  kindness,  when  we  are  awake,  causeth 
desire,  and  desire  maketh  heat  in  certain  other  parts  of  the 
body ;  so  also  too  much  heat  in  those  parts,  while  we  sleep, 
raiseth  in  the  brain  the  imagination  of  some  kindness 


OF  IMAGINATION 


107 


shown.  In  sum,  our  dreams  are  the  reverse  of  our  wak- 
ing imaginations ;  the  motion  when  we  are  awake  be- 
ginning at  one  end,  and  when  we  dream  at  another.* 


•  Compare  Elements  of  Philosophy,  (M.  I,  399)  .  "The  phan- 
tasms of  men  that  sleep,  are  dreams.  Concerning  which  we 
are  taught  by  experience  these  five  things.  First,  that  for  the 
most  part  there  is  neither  ^order  nor  coherence  in  them.  Sec- 
ondly, that  we  dream  of  nothing  but  what  is  compounded  and 
made  up  of  the  phantasms  of  sense  past.  Thirdly,  that  some- 
times they  proceed,  as  in  those  that  are  drowsy,  from  the  in- 
terruption of  their  phantasms  by  little  and  little,  broken  and 
altered  through  sleepiness;  and  sometimes  also  they  begin  in 
the  midst  of  sleep.  Fourthly,  that  they  are  clearer  than  the 
imaginations  of  waking  men,  except  such  as  are  made  by  sense 
itself,  to  which  they  are  equal  in  clearness.  Fifthly,  that  when 
we  dream,  we  admire  neither  the  places  nor  the  looks  of  the 
things  that  appear  to  us.  Now  from  what  hath  been  said,  it  is 
not  hard  to  show  what  may  be  the  causes  of  these  phenomena. 
For  as  for  the  first,  seeing  all  order  and  coherence  proceeds  from 
frequent  looking  back  to  the  end,  that  is,  from  consultation;  it 
must  needs  be,  that  seeing  in  sleep  we  lose  all  thought  of  the  end, 
our  phantasms  succeed  one  another,  not  in  that  order  which 
tends  to  any  end,  but  as  it  happeneth,  and  in  such  manner,  as 
objects  present  themselves  to  our  eyes  when  we  look  indiffer- 
ently upon  all  things  before  us,  and  see  them,  not  because  we 
would  see  them,  but  because  we  do  not  shut  our  eyes;  for  then 
they  appear  to  us  without  any  order  at  all.  The  second  pro- 
ceeds from  this,  that  in  the  silence  of  sense  there  is  no  new 
motion  from  the  objects,  and  therefore  no  new  phantasm,  unless 
we  call  that  new,  which  is  compounded  of  old  ones,  as  a  chimera, 
a  golden  mountain,  and  the  like.  As  for  the  third,  why  a  dream 
is  sometimes  as  it  were  the  continuation  of  sense,  made  up  of 
broken  phantasms,  as  in  men  distempered  with  sickness,  the  rea- 
son is  manifestly  this,  that  in  some  of  the  organs  sense  remains, 
and  in  others  it  faileth.  But  how  some  phantasms  may  be  re- 
vived, when  all  the  exterior  organs  are  benumbed  with  sleep, 
is  not  so  easily  shown.  Nevertheless  that,  which  hath  already 
been  said,  contains  the  reason  of  this  also.  For  whatsoever 
strikes  the  pia  mater,  reviveth  some  of  those  phantasms  that 
are  still  in  motion  in  the  brain ;  and  when  any  internal  motion  of 
the  heart  reacheth  that  membrane,  then  the  predominant  motion 
in  the  brain  makes  the  phantasm.  Now  the  motions  of  the 
heart  are  appetites  and  aversions,  of  which  I  shall  presently 
speak  further.  And  as  appetites  and  aversions  are  generated 
by  phantasms,  so  reciprocally  phantasms  are  generated  by  ap- 
petites and  aversions.  ♦  ♦  *  *  fhe  fourth,  namely,  that 
the  things  we  seem  to  see  and  feel  in  sleep,  are  as  clear  as  in 
sense  itself,  proceeds  from  two  causes;  one,  that  having  then  no 


,o8  LEVIATHAN 

The  most  difficult  discerning  of  a  man's  dream,  from 
his  waking  thoughts,  is  then,  when  by  some  accident  we 
observe  not  that  we  have  slept:  which  is  easy  to  happen 
to  a  man  full  of  fearful  thoughts,  and  whose  conscience  is 
much  troubled;  and  that  sleepeth,  without  the  circum- 


y 


OF  IMAGINATION 


109 


sense  of  thinffs  without  US,  that  internal  motion  which  makes  the 
Dhantasm,S^thT  absence  of  all  other  impressions,  is  predomi- 
SaS?   Ind  {he  other,  that  the  parts  of  our  Phantasms  which  ar^^ 
decayed  and  worn  out  by  time,  are  made  up  with  other  fictitious 
oarts     To  conclude,  when    we   dream,    we    do   not    wonder  at 
strike  places  and  the  appearances  of  things  unknown  to  us. 
Sse  admiration  requires  that  the  thmgs  appeanng  be  new 
and  unusual,  which  can  happen  to  none  but    hose  that  remember 
former  appearances ;  whereas  in  sleep,  all  things  appear  as  pres- 
ent     But  it    is    here    to    be    observed,    that    certain    dreams, 
especially   such   as   some   men    have    when    they   are   between 
sleeping     and      waking,      and      such      as     happen      to     those 
Jhlt    have    no    knowledge  of    the    nature    of     dreams     and 
are     withal     superstitious,     were     not     heretofore     nor     are 
now   licounted    dreams.      For     the    apparitions    men    thought 
they  saw,  and  the  voices  they  thought  they  heard  in  sleep   were 
not  believed  to  be  phantasms,  but  things  subsisting  of  them- 
selves, and  objects  without  those  that  dreamed.     For  to  some 
men,  as  well  sleeping  as  waking,  but  especially  to  guilty  men 
Sid  in  the  night,  and  in  hallowed  places,  ^^^^  alone    helped  a 
little  with  the  stories  of  such  apparitions,  hath  raised  in  their 
minds  terrible  phantasms,  which  have  been  and  are  still  deceitful- 
ly received  for  things  really  true,  under  the  nzmts  of  ghosts  and 
incorporeal  substances/'    Also  Human  Nature,  {M.  IV.  10,  13- 
14).      "The  causes  of  dreams,  if  they  be  natural,  are  the  actions 
or  violence  of  the  imvard  parts  of  a  man  upon  his  brain,  bv 
which  the  passages  of  sense  by   sleep   benumbed,   are  restored 
to  their  motion.     The  signs  by  which  this  appeareth  to  be  so, 
are  the  differences  of  dreams  (old  men  commonly  dream  oftener, 
and  have  their   dreams   more  painful   than  young)    proceeding 
from  the  different  accidents  of  man's  body,  as  dreams  of  lust, 
as  dreams  of  anger,  according  as  the  heart,  or  other  parts  within, 
work  more  or  less  upon  the  brain,  by  more  or  less  heat;  so  also 
the  descents  of  different  sorts  of  phlegm  maketh  us  a  dream  ot 
different  tastes  of  meats  and  drinks ;  and  I  believe  there  is  a 
mciprocation  of  motion  from  the  brain  to  the  vital  parts,  and 
back  from  the  vital  parts  to  the  brain;  whereby  not  only  iw- 
aoination  begetteth  motion  in  those  parts;  but  also  motion  in 
those  parts  begetteth  imagination  like  to  that  by  which  it  was 
begotten       If  this  be  true,  and  that  sad  imaginations  nourish 
the  spleen,  then  we  see  also  a  cause,  why  a  strong  spleen  recip- 


stances  of  going  to  bed  or  putting  off  his  clothes,  as  one 
that  noddeth  in  a  chair.  For  he  that  taketh  pains,  and 
industriously  lays  himself  to  s-leep,  in  case  any  uncouth 
and  exhorbitant  fancy  come  unto  him,  cannot  easily  think 
it  other  than  a  dream.  We  read  of  Marcus  Brutus,  (one 
that  had  his  life  given  him  by  Julius  Caesar,  and  was  also 


rocally  causeth  fearful  dreams,  and  why  the  effects  of  lasctvxous- 
mss  may  in  a  dream  produce  the  image  of  some  person  that  had 
caused  them.  Another  sign  that  dreams  are  caused  by  the 
action  of  the  inward  parts,  is  the  disorder  and  casual  conse- 
quence of  one  conception  or  image  to  another :  for  when  we  are 
waking,  the  antecedent  thought  or  conception  introduceth,  and 
is  cause  of  the  consequent,  as  the  water  followeth  a  man  s  finger 
upon  a  dry  and  level  table;  but  in  dreams  there  is  commonly 
no  coherence,  and  when  there  is,  it  is  by  chance,  which  must 
needs  proceed  from  this,  that  the  brain  in  dreams  is  not  restored 
to  its  motion  in  every  part  alike :  whereby  it  cometh  to  pass,  that 
our  thoughts  appear  like  the  stars  between  the  flying  clouds, 
not  in  the  order  which  a  man  would  choose  to  objcrve  them, 
but  as  the  uncertain  flight  of  broken  clouds  permits.  * 
And  from  this  that  hath  been  said,  there  followeth,  that  a  man 
can  never  know  he  dreameth;  he  may  dream  he  doubteth, 
whether  it  be  a  dream  or  no:  but  the  clearness  of  the  imagin- 
ation representeth  every  thing  with  as  many  parts  as  doth  sense 
itself,  and  consequently,  he  can  take  notice  of  nothing  but  as 
present;  whereas  to  think  he  dreameth,  is  to  think  those  his 
conceptions,  that  is  to  say  dreams,  obscurer  than  they  were  in 
the  sense :  so  that  he  must  think  them  both  as  clear,  and  not  as 
clear  as  sense;  which  is  impossible.  From  the  same  ground  it 
proceedeth,  that  men  wonder  not  in  their  dreams  at  place  and 
persons,  as  they  would  do  waking :  for  waking,  a  man  would  think 
it  strange  to  be  in  a  place  where  he  never  was  before,  and  remem- 
ber nothing  of  how  he  came  there;  but  in  a  dream,  there  cometh 
little  of  that  kind  into  consideration.  The  clearness  of  con- 
ception in  a  dream,  taketh  away  distrust,  unless  the  strangeness 
be  excessive,  as  to  think  himself  fallen  from  on  high  without 
hurt,  and  then  most  commonly  he  wakith.  Nor  is  it  impossible 
for  a  man  to  be  so  far  deceived,  as  when  his  dream  is  past,  to 
think  it  real :  for  if  he  dream  of  such  things  as  are  ordinarily 
in  his  mind,  and  in  such  order  as  he  useth  to  do  waking,  and 
withal  that  he  laid  him  down  to  sleep  in  the  place  where  he 
findeth  himself  when  he  awaketh;  all  which  may  happen:  I 
know  no  Kpir-fipiov  or  mark  by  which  he  can  discern  whether 
it  were  a  dream  or  not,  and  therefore  do  the  less  wonder  to 
hear  a  man  sometimes  to  tell  his  dream  for  a  truth,  or  to  take  it 
for  a  vision." 


no 


LEVIATHAN 


his  favourite,  and  notwithstanding^  murdered  him),  how 
at  Philippi,  the  night  before  he  gave  battle  to  Augustus 
Caesar,  he  saw  a  fearful  apparition,  which  is  commonly 
related  by  historians  as  a  vision ;  but  considering  the  cir- 
cumstances, one  may  easily  judge  to  have  been  but  a 
short  dream.  For  sitting  in  his  tent,  pensive  and  troubled 
with  the  horror  of  his  rash  act,  it  was  not  hard  for  him, 
slumbering  in  the  cold,  to  dream  of  that  which  most  af- 
frighted him ;  which  fear,  as  by  degrees  it  made  him  wake, 
so  also  it  must  needs  make  the  apparition  by  degrees  to 
vanish ;  and  having  no  assurance  that  he  slept,  he  could 
have  no  cause  to  think  it  a  dream,  or  anything  but  a 
vision.    And  this  is  no  very  rare  accident ;  for  even  they 
that  be  perfectly  awake,  if  they  be  timorous  and  super- 
stitious, possessed  with  fearful  tales,  and  alone  in  the 
dark,  are  subject  to  the  like  fancies,  and  believe  they  see 
spirits  and  dead  men's  ghosts  walking  in  churchyards; 
whereas  it  is  either  their  fancy  only,  or  else  the  knavery  of 
such  persons  as  make  use  of  such  superstitious   fear, 
to  pass  disguised  in  the  night,  to  places  they  would  not 
be  known  to  haunt. 

From  this  ignorance  of  how  to  distinguish  dreams,  and 
other  strong  fancies,  from  vision  and  sense,  did  arise  the 
greatest  part  of  the  religion  of  the  Gentiles  in  time  past, 
that  worshipped  satyrs,  fawns,  nymphs,  and  the  like ;  and 
now-a-days  the  opinion  that  rude  people  have  of  fairies, 
ghosts,  and  goblins,  and  of  the  power  of  witches.  For  a^ 
for  witches,  I  think  not  that  their  witchcraft  is  anv  real 
^owei;  but  yet  that  they  are  justly  punished,  for  the 
false  belief  they  have  that  they  can  do  such  mischief, 
joined  with  their  purpose  to  do  it  if  they  can ;  their  trade 
being  nearer  to  a  new  religion  than  to  a  craft  or  science. 
And  for  fairies,  and  walking  ghosts,  the  opinion  of  them 
has,  I  think,  been  on  purpose  either  taught  or  not  confut- 


OF  IMAGINATION 


III 


ed,  to  keep  in  credit  the  use  of  exorcism,  of  crosses,  of 
holy  water,  and  other  such  inventions  of  ghostly  men. 
Nevertheless,  there  is  no  doubt,  but  God  can  make  unnat- 
ural apparitions ;  but  that  he  does  it  so  often,  as  men  need 
to  fear  such  things,  more  than  they  fear  the  stay  or 
change  of  the  course  of  nature,  which  he  also  can  stay, 
and  change,  is  no  point  of  Christian  faith.  But  evil  men 
under  pretext  that  God  can  do  anything,  are  so  bold  as 
to  say  anything  when  it  serves  their  turn,  though  they 
think  it  untrue ;  it  is  the  part  of  a  wise  man,  to  believe 
them  no  farther,  than  right  reason  makes  that  which 
they  say,  appear  credible.  If  this  superstitious  fear  of 
spirits  were  taken  away,  and  with  it,  prognostics  from 
dreams,  false  prophecies,  and  many  other  things  depend- 
ing thereon,  by  which  crafty  ambitious  persons  abuse  the 
simple  people,  men  would  be  much  more  fitted  than  they 
are  for  civil  obedience. 

And  this  ought  to  be  the  work  of  the  schools :  but  they 
rather  nourish  such  doctrine.  For,  not  knowing  what 
imagination  or  the  senses  are,  what  they  receive,  they 
teach:  some  saying,  that  imaginations  rise  of  them- 
selves, and  have  no  cause;  others,  that  they  rise  most 
commonly  from  the  will;  and  that  good  thoughts  are 
blown  (inspired)  into  a  man  by  God,  and  evil  thoughts 
by  the  Devil;  or  that  good  thoughts  are  poured  (infused) 
into  a  man  by  God,  and  evil  ones  by  the  Devil.  Some 
say  the  senses  receive  the  species  of  things,  and  deliver 
them  to  the  common  sense;  and  the  common  sense  de- 
livers them  over  to  the  fancy,  and  the  fancy  to  the 
memory,  and  the  memory  to  the  judgment,  like  handing 
of  things  from  one  to  another,  with  many  words  mak- 
ing nothing  understood. 

,The  imagination  that  is  raised  in  m^n.  or  any  other 


creature  indued  with  the  faculty  of  imaginihg,  bywords 


:) 


m 


LEVIATHAN 


or  Other  voluntary  signs,  is  that  we  generally  ca^U  und^ 
standing :  and  is  common  to  man  and  beast.  For  a  dog 
by  custom  will  understand  the  call,  or  the  rating  of  his 
master;  and  so  will  many  other  beasts.  That  under- 
standing which  is  peculiar  to  man,  is  the  understanding 
not  only  his  will,  but  his  conceptions  and  thoughts,  by  the 
sequel  and  contexture  of  the  names  of  things  into  affirm- 
ations, negations,  and  other  forms  of  speech ;  and  of  this 
kind  of  understanding  I  shall  speak  hereafter.^ 


'Compare  below  p.  129.  Also  Human  Nature,  (M.  IV,  23). 
*'This  equivocation  of  names  maketh  it  difficult  to  recover  those 
conceptions  for  which  the  name  was  ordained ;  and  that  not  only 
in  the  language  of  other  men,  wherein  we  are  to  consider  the 
drift,  and  occasion^  and  contexture  of  the  speech,  a-sjwell  as  the 
words  themselves;  but  also  in  our  discourse,  which  being  de- 
rived from  the  custom  and  xx>mmon  use  of  speech,  representeth 
unto  us  not  our  own  conceptions.  It  is  therefore  a  great  ability 
in  a  man,  out  of  the  words,  contexture,  and  other  circumstances 
of  language,  to  deliver  himself  from  equivocation,  and  to  find 
out  the  true  meaning  of  what  is  ftaid:  and  this  is  it  we  call 
understanding, '  * 


I 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF  THE  CONSEQUENCE  OR   TRAIN   OF   IMAGINATIONS. 

Bv  Consequence,  or  train  of  thoughts.  I  "««i^^«^;^  *^^  f.ZZ'^ 
succession  of  one  thought  to  another,  which  is  called,  to      /T    I 
,ItTnSsh  it  from  discourse  in  words,  menial  i.co.rs.       ^^. 
'men  a  man  thinketh  on  any  thing  whatsoever,  h.s 
next  thought  after,  is  not  altogether  so  casual  as  it  seems 
to  be.    Not  every  thought  to  every  though   succeeds  m-  ^^^-_. 

differently.     But  as  weJiave_nCL_imagmation.  whereof    c«. 
we  have  jiotjormerly  had  sense,  in  whole,  or  m  parts ;  so 
we  have^^^l^tion  from  one  imagination  to  another, 
whereofl^never  had  the  like  before  in  our  senses     The 
reason  ^irfiiSBnTthlF.'  Allfancies  are  motions  within  us 
relics  of  those  mademjheiense :  and  those  motions  that 
immediiW^H^^^^did-^another  in  the  sfise    con- 
tinue also  together  after  sense:  insomuch  as  the  former 
coming  again  to  take  place,  and  be  predominant    the 
latter  foUoweth,  by  coherence  of  the  matter  moved,  m 
such  manner,  as  water  upon  a  plane  table  is  drawn 


■  Compare  EXcmoMs  of  Philosophy,   (M.  \39?l-J.^^^\s 

petual  arising  ofjehantasms,  ^'l"^j;^jt^""r^T^  ^      •/ 
that-whtch  we   commonly  call   d.sc^e  of  the  m  ^^^^  v 

common  to  men  with  other  »^'"8  "!*"'Ta  jj  ,-jjeth  notice  of 
eth.  conjESreth  the  phantasms  that  pass.  that  fffXiilM.\.  ob- 
thelr  "k%-r  ua|jken|ss  io^^^^^^^^  And^«  ^^J^^^^^ 

fancy;  so  he  is  said  to  have  a  8°°^  )"dgm^t  tnat  n  , 

unlikenesses  or  dif^ences  of  things  ^^^^^^^ll^^  „ade  by 
Now  this  obsepration  of  «  ««""<i"  if  .,„L  or  oerception  prop- 

(  and  of  an  enlightening  object. 


^    ^U/9*.jfU.**'*--T 


"4 


LEVIATHAN 


which  way  any  one  part  of  it  is  guided  by  the  finger .    But 
because  in  sense,  to  one  and  the  same  thing  perceived, 
sometimes  one  thing,  sometimes  another  succeedeth,  it 
comes  to  pass  in  time,  that  in  the  imagining  of  any  thing, 
,  there  is  no  certainty  what  we  shall  imagine  next ;  only 
I  this  is  certain,  it  shall  be  something  that  succeeded  the 
7-   yTi^        *  same  before,  at  one  time  or  another.^ 
X.v^  -  7i^>=fC^    '^^^^  t^^^"  of  thoughts,  or  mental  discourse,  is  of  twol 
^       ',~rr         ^^^^'     ^^^  ^''^^  ^^  unguided,  without  design,  and  inconJ 
^--^       stant;  wherein  there  is  no  passionate  thought,  to  govern 
^    Sr^^      and  direct  those  that  follB^SnTltidfTIs  the  end  and 
f.  scope  of  some  desire,  or  other  passion :  in  which  case  the 

Cn^^^^t^^^  thoughts  are  said  to  wander,  and  seem  impertinent  one 
^^  -  '  to  another,  as  in  a  dream.  Such  are  commonly  the  thoughts 
of  men,  that  are  not  only  without  company,  but  also  with- 
out care  of  anything;  though  even  then  their  thoughts 
are  as  busy  as  at  other  times,  but  without  harmony ;  as  the 
sound  which  a  lute  out  of  tune  would  yield  to  any  man ;  or 
m  tune,  to  one  that  could  not  play.  And  yet  in  this  wild 
ranging  of  the  mind,  a  man  may  oft-tihies  perceive  the  way 

'Compare  Human  Nature,    (M.    IV,   15).      "The  cause  of 

he  coherence  or  consequence  of  one  conception  to  anXr    U 

Drndnrlxr^^'"''''""  ^^  consequence  allK^t  time  when  ?hey  are 

ninn^#T^Q?"o  :  ^'  t"'  ^^^^P^^^  from  St. Andrew  the  mind 

runneth  to   St.  Peter,   because   their  names  are   read   together- 

Suse  frni^'^fn^'?  r"  ^"  ''t  '^f'"  *^«^^^^^^  ^"^  for  the  same 
f«H  /J  foundation  to  church,  and  from  church  to  People 

m^nd  T  ^'''^^'  /°  '"'"/'^•'  ^"^  according  to  this  example  the 
mmd  may  run  almost  from  anything  to  anything.  But  as  in 
the^.n.^  the  conception  of  cause  and  effect  may  succeed  oie 

most^an  ?hT' H^^'^  ""^l"'  ^^"^^  ^"  '^'  tma^^ma/f  J:  and  for  ?he 
most  part  they  do  so :  the  cause  whereof  is  the  appetite  of  them 

"eDtion'of"fh^  rr ''^^"  "'  '^'l  '""^^  ^^^^  next^Snfo  it  a  con-' 
/  ?l       u!  ^*;^,"«^t  *«^««-f  to  that  end:  as,  when  a  man    from 

-J  Che   thought   of  wtsdom.    which   is   the   next   means   thereunto  • 

"  mi:Twtdom.'^-°  "■'  *''°"^'''  of /"«'^>'  which  ^s'^rnTxf 


TRAIN  OF  IMAGINATIONS 


"5 


I 


Jx\^l 


r 


of  it,  and  the  dependence  of  one  thought  upon  another. 
For  in  a  discourse  of  our  present  civil  war,  what  could 
seem  more  impertinent,  than  to  ask,  as  one  did,  what  was 
the  value  of  a  Roman  penny  ?     Yet  the  coherence  to  me 
was  manifest  enough.    For  the  thought  of  the  war,  intro- 
duced the  thought  of  the  delivering  up  the  king  to  his  en- 
emies ;  the  thought  of  that,  brought  in  the  thought  of  the 
delivering  up  of  Christ ;  and  that  again  the  thought  of  the  , 
thirty  pence,  which  was  the  price  of  that  treason ;  and 
thence  easily  followed  that  malicious  question,  and  all 
this  in  a  moment  of  time ;  for  thought  is  quick. 

The  second  is  more  constant ;  as  being  regulated  by 
some  desire,  and  design.       For  the  impression  made  by      ^ 
such  things  as  we  desire,  or  fear,  is  strong,  and  perman-  U^^u. 
ent,  or,  if  it  cease  for  a  time,  of  quick  return:  so  strong  f^^  e^^^\ 
it  is  sometimes,  as  to  hinder  and  break  our  sleep.    From  ^  ^^)  | 

desire,  ariseth  the  thought  of  some  means  we  have  seen 
produce  the  like  of  that  which  we  aim  at ;  and  from  the 
thought  of  that,  the  thought  of  means  to  that  mean ;  and 
so  continually,  till  we  come  to  some  beginning  within 
our  own  power.  And  because  the  end,  by  the  greatness  of 
the  impression,  comes  often  to  mind,  in  case  our  thoughts 
begin  to  wander,  they  are  quickly  again  redu^edjnto_A.e 
way :  which  observed  by  one  of  the  seven  wise  men,  made 
mm  give  men  this  precept,  which  is  now  worn  out, 
Resfice  iinem;  that  is  to  say,  in  all  your  actions,  look 
often  upon  what  you  would  have,  as  the  thing  that 
directs  all  your  thoughts  in  the  way  to  attain  it. 

The  train  of  regulated  thoughts  is  of  jtwo  kinds ;  one, 
when  of  an  effect  imagined  we  seek  the  causes,  or  means 
that  produce  it :  and  this  is  common  to  man  and  beast . 
The  other  is,  when  imagining  anything  whatsoever,  we  ^ 
, seek_alljhe_£0ssi.^^  that  can  by  it  be  produced;^ 

that  is  to  say,  we  imagine  what  we  can  do  with  it,  when 


J 


i4^L)r 


Ii6 


LEVIATHAN 


TRAIN  OF  IMAGINATIONS 


Vf7 


1 


we  have  it.    Of  which  I  have  not  at  any  time  seen  any 
sign,  but  in  man  only ;  for  this  is  a  curiosity  hardly  in- 
cident to  the  nature  of  any  living  creature  that  has  no 
other  passion  but  sensual,  such  as  are  hunger,  thirst, 
lust,  and  anger,  fin  sum,  the  discourse  of  the  mind,  when 
it  is  governed  by  design,  is  nothing  but  seeking,  or  the 
faculty  of  invention,  which  the  Latins  called  sagacitas, 
and  solertia;  a  hunting  out  of  the  causes,  of  some  effect, 
present  or  past ;  or  of  the  effects,  of  some  present  or  past 
cause.     Sometimes  a  man  seeks  what  he  hath  lost ;  and 
from  that  place,  and  time,  wherein  he  misses  it,  his  mind 
runs  back,  from  place  to  place,  and  time  to  time,  to  find 
where,  and  when  he  had  it ;  that  is  to  say,  to  find  some 
certain,  and  limited  time  and  place,  in  which  to  begin  a 
method  of  seeking.    Again,  from  thence,  his  thoughts  run 
over  the  same  places  and  times,  to  find  what  action,  or 
other  occasion  might  make  him  lose  it.    This  we  call^e- 
membrance^  or  calling  to  mind :  the  Latins  call  it  remini' 
"T^mttaT^^^t  'were  a  re-conning  of  our  former  actions. 
Sometimes  a  man  knows  a  place  determinate,  with- 
in the  compass  whereof  he  is  to  seek;  and  then  his 
thoughts  run  over  all  the  parts  thereof,  in  the  same  manner 
as  one  would  sweep  a  room,  to  find  a  jewel;  or  as  a 
spaniel  ranges  the  field,  till  he  find  a  scent ;  or  as  a  man 
should  run  over  the  alphabet,  to  start  a  rhyme. 

Sometimes  a  man  desires  to  know  the  event  of  an 
action;  and  then  he  thinketh  of  some  like  action  past, 
and  the  events  thereof  one  after  another ;  supposing  like 
events  will  follow  like  actions.  As  he  that  foresees  what 
will  become  of  a  criminal,  re-cons  what  he  has  seen  follow 
on  the  like  crime  before ;  having  this  order  of  thoughts, 
the  crime,  the  ofiicer,  the  prison,  the  judge,  and  the  gal- 
lows. Which  kind  of  thoughts,  is  caWedj^resi^t,  and 
prudence,  or  providence;  and  sometimes  ivisdom;  though 


\1 


such  conjecture,  through  the  dHficuky  af  observing  all 
circumstances,  be  very  fallacious.    But  *-  js  fe^;";^y 
how  much  one  man  has  more  experience  of  thmgs  pa^  . 
Aan  another,  by   so  much  also  he  xs  -nore  pnad«.t 
and  his  expectations  the  seldomer  fad  h,m .    The  presei^ 
ont  has  a  being  in  nature ;  things^o.*  have  a  bemg  m  he 
,  memory  only,  but  things  to  come  have  no  being  at  aU .  the 
r«'ur7being  but  a  fiction  of  the  mind,  applymg  the  se- 
quellof  actions  passed,  to  the  actions  that  are  present 
which  with  most  certainty  is  done  by  him  that  has  most 
experience,  but  not  with  certainty  enough-    And  though 
it  be  called  prudence,  when  the  event  answereth  our  ex- 
pectation; yet  in  its  own  nature,  it  is  but  Pre^ti^n- 
For  the  foresight  of  things  to  come,  which  is  providence, 
belongl  only  to  him  by  whose  will  they  are  to  come. 
From  him  only,  and  supematurally,  proceeds  prophecy^ 
The  best  prophet  naturally  is  the  best  guesser ;  and  the 
best  guesser,  he  that  is  most  versed  and  studied  m  the 
matters  he  guesses  at :  for  he  hath  most  signs  to  guess  by. 
Tsilnfs  the  evident  antecedent  of  the  consequent; 
and  confrarily.  the  consequent  of  the  antecedent   when 
the  like  consequences  have  been  observed    before .  and 
he  oftener  they  have  been  observed,  the  less  uncertam 
is  the  sign.    And  therefore  he  that  has  most  experience 
in  any  kind  of  business,  has  most  signs,  whereby  to  guess 
at  the  future  time;  and  consequently  is  the  most  pmdent: 
and  so  much  more  prudent  than  he  that  is  new  m  that 
kind  of  business,  as  not  to  be  equalled  by  any  advantage 
of  natural  and  extemporary  wit:  though  perhaps  many 
young  men  think  the  contrary. 

Nevertheless  it  is  not  prudence  that  d'^tingmsheth  man 
from  beast  There  be  beasts,  that  at  a  year  old  observe 
m^e,  an?pursue  that  which  is  for  their  good,  more  pru- 
dently, than  a  child  can  do  at  ten. 


lis 


LEVIATHAN 


TRAIN  OF  IMAGINATIONS 


"9 


I  As  prudence  is  a  presumption  of  the  future,  contracted 
Jf rem  the  experience  of  time  past:  so  there  is  a  presumption 
of  thmgs  past  taken  from  other  things,  not  future  but 
past  also.  For  he  that  hath  seen  by  what  courses  and  de- 
grees a  flourishing  state  hath  first  come  into  civil  war,  and 
then  to  nun ;  upon  the  sight  of  the  ruins  of  any  other  state 
will  guess,  the  like  war,  and  the  like  courses  have  been 
there  also.  But  this  conjecture,  has  the  same  uncertainty 
almost  with  the  conjecture  of  the  future;  both  being 
grounded  only  upon  experience.' 

There  is  no  other  act  of  man's  mind,  that  I  can  remem- 
ber, naturally  planted  in  him,  so  as  to  need  no  other  thing 
to  the  exercise  of  it,  but  to  be  bom  a  man,  and  live  with 
the  use  of  his  five  senses.  Those  other  faculties,  of  which 
I  shall  speak  by  and  by,  and  which  seem  proper  to  man 
only,  are  acquired  and  increased  bv  study  and  industry  • 
and  of  most  men  learned  by  instruction,  and  discipline' 
and  proceeds  all  from  the  invention  of  words,  and  speech.' 
tor  besides  sense,  and  thoughts,  and  the  train  of  thoughts 
the  mmd  of  man  has  no  other  motion ;  though  by  the  help 
of  speech,  and  method,  the  same  faculties  may  be  improved  " 

IV.'TIf  te'whh'fh^/ir^  ■"  '*•''  '"  """"'"  ^"""-^  (M. 
exoerience      -Af;  •  '°"°"''"?  caveats  of  concluding  from 

experience.       As  m  conjecture  concern  ne  thines  oast  anH  fi. 

o"ome1oTass"'o'r  *to  r^'"*"^  ''r,  ^™«-  *"»»*'  "^«' 

to  rcUe  s  %,  %Jn^^vtl^ur^  t^ahnoT; 

we  cannot  from  experience  conclude,  that  anything  is   o  be  °lTeH 
'^^rtSwZi'  f"''"'  °\="y  ProposftiSrjU°.^    wha't"! 

posed'arS  il'^  ll  LT-  fo?'examoT  to  h'^T  "'^  "'""''  '■"" 
given  in   the  like  ra«    V i,.  i:l    ^  !'  '°  "^^^  ^"^"^  *  sentence 

m  concluding  by  experience,       •      *      *      that  ic    tL. 

dude  such  things  to  be  without,  that  are  within  uL"         '  '""' . 


\ 


to  such  a  height,  as  to  distinguish  men  from  aU  other  liv- 
ing creatures.  ™       ,         i. 

Whatsoever  we  imagine  is  finite.  • .  Therefore  there 
is  no  idea,  or  conception  of  any  thing  we  call  infinite.    No 
man  can  have  in  his  mind  an  image  of  infinite  magnitude ; 
nor  conceive  infinite  swiftness,  infinite  time,  or  infinite 
force,  or  infinite  power.    When  we  say  anything  is  in- 
finite, we  signify  only,  that  we  are  not  able  to  conceive 
the  ends,  and  bounds  of  the  things  named;  having  no 
conception  of  the  thing,  but  of  our  own  inabihty.    And 
therefore  the  name  of  God  is  used,  not  to  make  us  con- 
ceive him,  for  he  is  incomprehensible ;  and  his  greatness, 
and  power  are  unconceivable ;  but  that  we  may  honour 
him    Also  because,  whatsoever,  as  I  said  before,  we  con- 
ceive, has  been  perceived  first  by  sense,  either  all  at  once, 
or  by  parts ;  a  man  can  have  no  thought,  representing  any- 
thing, not  subject  to  sense.   No  man  therefore  can  con- 
ceive anything,  but  he  must  conceive  it  in  some  place ;  and 
indued  with  some  determinate  magnitude;  and  which  may 
be  divided  into  parts ;  nor  that  anything  is  all  in  this  place, 
and  all  in  another  place  at  the  same  time ;  nor  that  two, 
or  more  things  can  be  in  one,  and  the  same  place  at 
once:  for  none  of  these  things  ever  have,  nor  can  be 
incident  to  sense ;  but  are  absurd  speeches,  taken  upon 
credit,  without  any  signification  at  all,   from  deceived 
philosophers,  and  deceived,  or  deceiving  schoolmen.* 

*  Compare  above  p.  62,  n. 


OF  SPEECH 


121 


CHAPTER  IV. 


O?  SPEECH.* 


The  invention  of  printing,  though  ingenious,  compared 
with  the  invention  of  letters,  is  no  great  matter.  But 
who  was  the  first  that  found  the  use  of  letters,  is  not 
known.  He  that  first  brought  them  into  Greece,  men 
say  was  Cadmus,  the  son  of  Agenor,  king  of  Phoenicia. 
A  profitable  invention  for  continuing  the  memory  of  time 
passed,  and  the  conjunction  of  mankind,  dispersed 
into  so  many,  and  distant  regions  of  the  earth ;  and  with- 
al difficult,  as  proceeding  from  a  watchful  obesrvation 
of  the  divers  motions  of  the  tongue,  palate,  lips,  and  other 
organs  of  speech ;  whereby  to  make  as  many  differences 
of  characters,  to  remember  them.  But  the  most  noble 
and  profitable  invention  of  all  other,  was  that  of  speech,  ^ 
consisting  of  names  or  appellations,  and  their  connexion ;  | 
whereby  men  register  their  thoughts;  recall  them  when 
they  are  past ;  and  also  declare  them  one  to  another  for 
mutual  utility  and  conversation;  without  which,  there 
had  been  amongst  men,  neither  commonwealth,  nor  so- 
ciety, nor  contract,  nor  peace,  no  more  than  amongst 
lions,  bears,  and  wolves.    The  first  author  of  speech  was 


Godjijmself,  that  instructed^dam  how  to  name  such 
creatures  as  he  presented  to  his  sight ;  for  the  Scripture 
goeth  no  further  in  this  matter.  But  this  was  sufficient 
to  direct  him  to  add  more  names,  as  the  experience  and 
use  of  the  creatures  should  give  him  occasion;  and  to 
join  them  in  such  manner  by  degrees,  as  to  make  himself 
understood;  and  so  by  succession  of  time,  so  much  lan- 

*  Compare  above  Elements  of  Philosophy,  p.  I3f. 


^age  might  be  gotten,  as  he  had  found  use  for;  though 
Z^so  copious,  as  an  orator  or  philosopher  has  rieed  of  • 
Z  I  do  not  find  anything  in  the  Scripture,  ou  of  whjd. 
directly  or  by  consequence,  can  be  gathered,  that  Adam 
was  taught  the  names  of  all  figures,  numbers    meas- 

Z.  cofours.  sounds,  fancies.  '«'-*--:  -"^  lXm« 
nam^s  of  words  and  speech,  as  general,  spec^l  aArma-^ 
five     negative,    interrogative,    optative,    .nftn.hw,    all 
Sch  art  useful;  and  least  of  all.  of  entity  intents, 
ality.  quiddity,  and  other  insignificant  words  of  the  schc«l 
But  all  this  language  gotten,  and  augmented  by  Adam 
and  his  posterity,  was  again  lost  at  the  Tower  of  Babel 
when,  by  the  hand  of  God,  every  man  was  stricken,  for 
his  r;bellion.  with  an  oblivion  of  his  former  language. 
And  being  hereby  forced  to  disperse  themsdves  mto 
several  parts  of  the  world,  it  must  needs^be  that  the  di- 
versity of  tongues  that  now  is,  proceeded  by  degrees  from 
them,  in  such  manner,  as  need,  the  mother  of  all  mven- 
tions,  taught  them ;  and  in  tract  of  time  grew  every- 

where  more  copious.  . 

/      The  general  use  of  speech,  is  to  transfer  our  mental 
discourse,  into  verbal;  or  the  train ^f  our  thoughts  into 
a  train  of  words;  and  that  for  two  commodities,  where- 
of one  is  the  registering  of  the  consequences  of  our 
thought;  which  being  apt  to  slip  out  of  o"^  "^'^^Th 
and  put  us  to  a  new  labour,  may  again  be  recalled,  by  such 
words  as  they  were  marked  by.    So  that  the  first  use  of 
names  is  to  serve  for  marks,  or  notes  of  ■•emembrance  An- 
other is,  when  many  use  the  same  words,  to  ^^'^y'^ 
their  connexion  and  order,  one  to  another,  what  tisLCon- 
ceive,  or  think  of  each  matter;  and  also  what  they  de- 
sUfear,  or  have  any  other  passion  for.     AnOor  thi 
use  they  are  called  signs.    Special  uses  of  speech  are  these 
first    to  register,  what  by  cogitation,  we  find  to  be  the 


(S 


122 


LEVIATHAN 


^' 


\ 


cause  of  anything,  present  or  past;  and  what  we  find 
things  present  or  past  may  produce,  or  effect;  which  in 
sum,  is  acquiring  of  arts.  Secondly,  to  show  to  others 
that  knowledge  which  we  have  attained,  which  is,  to 
coimsel  and  teach  one  another.  Thirdly,  to  make  known 
to  others  our  wills  and  purposes,  that  we  may  have  the 
mutual  help  of  one  another.  Fourthly,  to  please  and  de- 
light ourselves  and  others,  by  playing  with  our  words, 
for  pleasure  or  ornament,  innocently. 

To  these  uses,  there  are  also  four^cprrespoijdent 
abuses.  First,  when  men  register  their  thoughts  wrong, 
by  the  inconstancy  of  the  signification  of  their  words; 
by  which  they  register  for  their  conception,  that  which 
they  never  conceived,  and  so  deceive  themselves.  Sec- 
ondly, when  they  use  words  metaphorically:  that  is,  in 
other  sense  than  that  thev  areordained  for;  and  thereby 
deceive  9th6gfi>»  Thirdly,  by^words^wnar  tliey  declare 
that  to  be  their  will,  which  is  not.  Fourthly,  when  they 
use  them  to  grieve  one  another;  for  seeing  nature  hath 
armed  living  creatures,  some  with  teeth,  some  with 
horns,  and  some  with  hands,  to  grieve  an  enemy,  it  is 
but  an  abuse  of  speech,  to  grieve  him  with  the  tongue, 
unless  it  be  one  whom  we  are  obliged  to  govern;  and 
then  it  is  not  to  grieve,  but  to  correct  and  amend. 

The  manner  how  speech  serveth  to  the  remembrance 
of  the  consequence  of  causes  and  effects,  consisteth  in  the 
imposing  of  names,  and  the  connexion  of  them. 

Of  names,  some  are  proper,  and  singular  to  one  only 
thing,  as  Peter,  John,  this  man,  this  tree;  and  some  are 
common  to  many  things,  man,  horse,  tree;  every  of 
which,  though  but  one  name,  is  nevertheless  the  name  of 
divers  particular  things ;  in  respect  of  all  which  together, 
it  is  called  an  universal;  there  being  nothing  in  the  world 


OF  SPEECH 


133 


II 


universal  but  names ;  for  the  things  named  are  every  one 
of  them  individual  and  singular. 

One  universal  name  is  imposed  on  many  things,  for 
their  similitude  in  some  quality,  or  other  accident;  and 
whereas  a  proper  name  bringeth  to  mind  one  thing  only, 
universals  recall  any  one  of  those  many. 

And  of  names  universal,  some  are  of  more,  and  some 
of  less  extent ;  the  larger  comprehending  the  less  large ; 
and  some  again  of  equal  extent,  comprehending  each 
other  reciprocally.  As  for  example:  the  name  body  is 
of  larger  signification  than  the  word  man,  and  compre- 
hendeth  it ;  and  the  names  man  and  rational,  are  of  equal 
extent,  comprehending  mutually  one  another.  But  here 
we  must  take  notice,  that  by  a  name  is  not  always  imder- 
stood,  as  in  grammar,  one  only  word;  but  sometimes, 
by  circumlocution,  many  words  together.  For  all  these 
words,  he  that  in  his  actions  ohserveth  the  laws  of  his 
country,  make  but  one  name,  equivalent  to  this  one  word, 
just. 

By  this  imposition  of  names,  some  of  larger,  some 
of  stricter  signification,  we  turn  the  reckoning  of  the  con- 
sequences  of  things  imagined  in  the  mind,  into  a  reckpn- 
ing  of  the  consequences  of  appellations-  For  example: 
a  man  that  hath  no  use  of  speech  at  all,  such  as  is  bom 
and  remains  perfectly  deaf  and  dumb,  if  he  set  before 
his  eyes  a  triangle,  and  by  it  two  right  angles,  such  as 
are  the  corners  of  a  square  figure,  he  may,  by  meditation, 
compare  and  find,  that  the  three  angles  of  that  triangle, 
are  equal  to  those  two  right  angles  that  stand  by  it.  But 
if  another  triangle  be  shown  him,  different  in  shape  from 
the  former,  he  cannot  know,  without  a  new  labour, 
whether  the  three  angles  of  that  also  be  equal  to  the  same. 
But  he  that  hath  the  use  of  words,  when  he  observes, 
that  such  quality  was  consequent,  not  to  the  length  of 


II 


124 


LEVIATHAN 


\ 


L^ 


■;• 


the  sides,  nor  to  any  other  particular  thing  in  his  tri- 
angle ;  but  only  to  this,  that  the  sides  were  straight,  and 
the  angles  three;  and  that  that  was  all,  for  which  he 
named  it  a  triangle ;  will  boldly  conclude  universally,  that 
such  equality  of  angles  is  in  all  triangles  whatsoever; 
and  register  his  invention  in  these  general  terms,  ever'^ 
triangle  hath  its  three  angles  equal  to  two  right  angles. 
And  thus  the  consequence  found  in  one  particular,  comes 
to  be  registered  and  remembered,  as  a  universal  rule,  and 
discharges  our  mental  reckoning,  of  time  and  place,  and 
delivers  us  from  all  labour  of  the  mind,  saving  the  first, 
and  makes  that  which  was  found  true  here,  and  nowy  to 
be  true  in  all  times  and  places. 

But  the  use  of  words  in  registering  our  thoughts  is 
in  nothing  so  evident  as  in  numbering.  A  natural  fool 
that  could  never  learn  by  heart  the  order  of  numeral 
words,  as  one,  two,  and  three,  may  observe  every  stroke 
of  the  clock,  and  nod  to  it,  or  say  one,  one,  one,  but  can 
never  know  what  hour  it  strikes.  And  it  seems,  there  was 
»  a  time  when  those  names  of  number  were  not  in  use ;  and 
men  were  fain  to  apply  their  fingers  of  one  or  both  hands, 
to  those  things  they  desired  to  keep  account  of ;  and  that 
thence  it  proceeded,  that  now  our  numeral  words  are 
but  ten,  in  any  nation,  and  in  some  but  five;  and  then 
they  begin  again.  And  he  that  can  tell  ten,  if  he  recite 
them  out  of  order,  will  lose  himself,  and  not  know  when 
he  has  done.  Much  less  will  he  be  able  to  add,  and  sub- 
tract, and  perform  all  other  operations  of  arithmetic.  So 
that  without  words  there  is  no  possibility  of  reckoning 
of  numbers;  much  less  of  magnitudes,  of  swiftness,  of 
force,  and  other  things,  the  reckonings  whereof  are  nec- 
essary to  the  being,  or  well-being  of  mankind. 

When  two  names  are  joined  together  into  a  conse- 
quence, or  affirmation,  as  thus,  a  man  is  a  living  creon 


OF  SPEECH 


I2S 


-f 


ture;  or  thus,  if  he  be  a  man,  he  is  a  lisHng  creature;  if 
the  latter  name,  living  creature,  sipiiiy  all  that  the  for- 
mer name  man  signifieth,  thei^tne  affirmation,  or  con- 
sequence, is  true;  otherwise  /a to.  For  true  and  false 
are  attributes  of  speech^  not  of  things.  And  where 
speech  is  not,  there  is  neither  truth  nor  falsehood;  error 
there  may  be,  as  when  we  expect  that  which  shall  not  be. 
or  suspect  what  has  not  been :  but  in  neither  case  can  a 
man  be  charged  with  untruth. 

Seeing  then  that  truth  consisteth  in  the  rigfht  order- 

ing  of  names  in  our  affirmations,  a  man  that  seeketh  pre- 

I  cise  truth  had  need  to  remember  what  every  name  he  uses 

i  stands  for,  and  to  place  it  accordingly,  or  else  he  will 

^  find  himself  entangled  in  words,  as  a  bird  in  lime  twigs, 

the  more  he  struggles  the  more  belimed.  fAnd  there- 

fore  in  geometry,  which  is  the  only  science  that  it  hath 

pleased  G:)d  hitherto  tp  bestow  oi^  mankind,  men  be- 

gm  at  settling  the  significations  of  their  words;  which 

settling  of  significations  they  call  definitions,  and  place 

them  in  the  beginning  of  their  reckoning. 

By  this  it  appears  how  necessary  it  is  for  any  man 
that  aspires  to  true  knowledge,  to  examine  the  definitions 
of  former  authors;  and  either  to  correct  them,  where 
they  are  negligently  set  down,  or  to  make  them  himself. 
For  the  errors  of  definitions  multiply  themselves  accord- 
ing as  the  reckoning  proceeds,  and  lead  men  into  ab- 
surdities, which  at  last  they  see,  but  cannot  avoid, 
without  reckoning  anew  from  the  beginning,  in  which 
lies  the  foundation  of  their  errors.  From  whence  it 
happens,  that  they  which  trust  to  books  do  as  they  that 
cast  up  many  little  sums  into  a  greater,  without  consider- 
ing whether  those  little  sums  were  rightly  cast  up  or  not ; 
and  at  last  finding  the  error  visible,  and  not  mistrusting 
their  first  grounds,  know  not  which  way  to  clear  them- 


(^0j\AJi. 


*/. 


126 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  SPEECH 


127 


H- 


1 


4^  c 


r»v 


CaA^ 


selves,  but  spend  time  in  fluttering  over  their  books;  as 
birds  that  entering  by  the  chimney,  and  finding  them- 
selves enclosed  in  a  chamber,  flutter  at  the  false  light  of 
a  glass  window,  for  want  of  wit  to  consider  which  way 
they  came  in.  So  that  in  the  right  definition  oj^names 
lies  the  first  use  of  speech ;  which  is  the  acquisition  of 
science:  and  in  wrong,  or  no  definitions,  lies  the  first 
abuse ;  from  which  proceed  all  false  and  senseless  tenets ; 
which  make  those  men  that  take  their  instruction  from 
the  authority  of  books,  and  not  from  their  own  meditation, 
to  be  as  much  below  the  condition  of  ignorant  men,  as 
men  endued  with  true  science  are  above  it.  For  between 
true  science  and  erroneous  doctrines,  ignorance  is  in  the 
middle.  Natural  sense  and  imagination  are  not  sub- 
ject to  absurdity.  /  Nature  itself  cannot  err ;  and  as  men 
abound  in  copiousness  of  language,  so  they  become  more 
wise,  or  more  mad  than  ordinary.  Nor  is  it  possible 
without  letters  for  any  man  to  become  either  excellently 
wise,  or,  unless  his  memory  be  hurt  by  disease  or  ill  con- 
stitution of  organs,  excellently  foolish.  For  words  are 
wise  men's  counters,  they  do  but  reckon  by  them ;  but 
they  are  the  money  of  fools,  that  value  them  by  the 
authority  of  an  Aristotle,  a  Cicero,  or  a  Thomas,  or 
any  other  doctor  whatsoever,  if  but  a  man./ 

Subject  to  names,  is  whatsoever  can  enter  into 
or  be  considered  in  an  account,  and  be  added  one  to 
another  to  make  a  sum^  or  subtracted  one  from  another 
and  leave  a  remainder.  The  Latins  called  accounts  of 
money  rationes,  and  accounting  ratiocinatio ;  and  that 
which  we  in  bills  or  books  of  account  call  items,  they  call 
nomina,  that  is  names;  and  thence  it  seems  to  proceed, 
that  they  extended  the  word  ratio  to  the  faculty  of  reck- 
oning in  all  other  things.  The  Greeks  have  but  one 
word,  XSyo^  for  both  speech  and  reason;  not  that  they 


A 


thought  there  was  no  speech  without  reason,  but  no 
reasoning  without  speech :  and  the  act  of  reasoning  they 
called  syllogism,  which  signifieth  summing  up  of  the  con- 
sequences of  one  saying  to  another.  And  because  the 
same  thing  may  enter  into  account  for  divers  accidents, 
their  names  are,  to  show  that  diversity,  diversly  wrested 
and  diversified.  This  diversity  of  names  may  be  reduced 
to  four  general  heads. 

First,  a  thing  may  enter  into  account  for  matter  or 
body;  as  living,  sensible,  rational,  hot,  cold,  moved, 
quiet;  with  all  which  names  the  word  matter,  or  body, 
is  understood ;  all  such  being  names  of  matter. 

Secondly,  it  may  enter  into  account,  or  be  considered, 
for  some  accident  or  quality  which  we^conceive  to  be  in 
it ;  as  for  being  moved,  for  being  so  long,  for  being  hot, 
&c. ;  and  then,  of  the  name  of  the  thing  itself,  by  a  little 
change  or  wresting,  we  make  a  name  for  that  accident, 
which  we  consider;  and  for  living  put  into  the  account 
life;  for  moved,  motion;  for  hot,  heat;  for  long,  length; 
and  the  like:  and  all  such  names  are  the  names  of  the 
accidents  and  properties  by  which  one  matter  and  body  | 
is  distinguished  from  another.  These  are  called  names 
abstract,  because  severed,  not  from  matter,  but  from' 
the  account  of  matter. 

Thirdly,  we  bring  into  account  the  properties  of  our 
own  bodies,  whereby  we  make  such  distinction ;  as  when 
anything  is  seen  by  us,  we  reckon  not  the  thing  itself, 
but  the  sight,  the  colour,  the  idea  of  it  in  the  fancy :  and 
when  anything  is  heard,  we  reckon  it  not,  but  the  hear- 
ing or  soimd  only,  which  is  our  fancy  or  conception  of  it 
by  the  ear;  and  such  are  names  of  fancies. 

Fourthly,  we  bring  into  account,  consider,  and  give 
names,  to  names  themselves,  and  to  speeches:  for  gen- 
eral, universal,  special,  equivocal,  are  names  of  names. 


0 


f^ 


e,mZt^yif*4* 


128 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  SPEECH 


1*9 


i 


^if*^^-Ju'cCl0*K- 


And  affirmation,  interrogation,  commandment,  narration, 
syllogism,  sermon,  oration,  and  many  other  such,  are 
names  of  speeches.  And  this  is  all  the  variety  of  names 
positive;  which  are  put  to  mark  somewhat  which  is  in 
nature,  or  may  be  feigned  by  the  mind  of  man,  as  bodies 
that  are,  or  may  be  conceived  to  be;  or  of  bodies,  the 
properties  that  are,  or  may  be  Signed  to  be ;  or  words 
and  speech. 

There  be  also  other  names,  called  negative,  which  are 
notes  to  signify  that  a  word  is  not  the  name  of  the  thing 
in  question;  as  these  words,  nothing,  no  man,  infinite, 
indocihle,  three  want  four,  and  the  like ;  which  are  nev- 
ertheless of  use  in  reckoning,  or  in  correcting  of  reckon- 
ing, and  call  to  mind  our  past  cogitations,  though  they  be 
not  names  of  anything,  because  they  make  us  refuse  to 
admit  of  names  not  rightly  used. 

All  other  names  are  but  insignificant  sounds;  and 
those  of  two  sorts.  One  when  they  are  new,  and  yet 
their  meaning  not  explained  by  definition ;  whereof  there 
have  been  abundance  coined  by  schoolmen,  and  puzzled 
philosophers. 

Another,  when  men  make  a  name  of  t'vo  names, 
whose  significations  are  contradictory  and  inconsistent; 
as  this  name,  an  incorporeal  body,  or,  which  is  all  one, 
an  incorporeal  substance,  and  a  great  number  more.  For 
whensoever  any  affirmation  is  false,  the  two  names  of 
which  it  is  composed,  put  together  and  made  one,  sig- 
nify nothing  at  all  For  example,  if  it  be  a  false  affirma- 
tion to  say  a  quadrangle  is  round,  the  word  round  quad- 
rangle signifies  nothing,  but  is  a  mere  sound.  So  like- 
wise, if  it  be  false  to  say  that  virtue  can  be  poured,  or 
blown  up  and  down,  the  words  inpoured  virtue,  inblown 
znrtne,  are  as  absurd  and  insignificant  as  a  round  quad- 
rangle.    And  therefore  you  shall  hardly  meet  with  a 


senseless  and  insignificant  word,  that  is  not  made  up  of 
someUtin  or  Greek  names.  A  Frenchman  seldom 
hears  our  Saviour  called  by  the  name  of  parole,  but  by 
the  name  of  verbe  often ;  yet  verbe  and  parole  differ  no 
more,  but  that  one  is  Latin  and  the  other  French. 

When  a  man,  upon  the  hearing  of  any  speech,  hath 
those  thoughts  which  the  words  of  that  speech  and  their 
connexion  were  ordained  and  constituted  to  signify,  then 
he  is  said  to  understand  it ;  understanding  being  nothing 
else  but  conception  caused  by  speech.     And  therefore 
if  speech  be  peculiar  to  man,  as  for  ought  I  know  it  is, 
then  is  understanding  peculiar  to  him  also.    And  there-  . 
fore  of  absurd  and  false  affirmations,  in  case  they  be  '^ 
universal,  there  can  be  no  understanding;  though  many   ■" 
think  they  understand  then,  when  they  do  but  repeat  I 
the  worduoftly,  or  con  them  in  their  mind. 

What  kinds  of  speeches  signify  the  appetites,  aver-, 
sions,  and  passions  of  man's  mind;  and  of  their  use  and 
abuse,  I  shall  speak  when  I  have  spoken  of  the  passions. 
The  names  of  such  things  as  affect  us,  that  is,  which 
please  and  displease  us,  because  all  men  be  not  alike 
affected  with  the  same  thing,  nor  the  same  man  at  all 
times,  are  in  the  common  discourses  of  men  of  incon- 
stant signification.     For  seeing  all  names  are  imposed 
to  signify  our  ^concept  ions,  and  all  our  affections  are 
but  conceptions,  when  we  conceive  the  same  things  dif- 
ferently, we  can  hardly  avoid  different  naming  of  them. 
For  though  the  nature  of  that  we  conceive,  be  the  same ; 
yet  the  diversity  of  our  reception  of  it,  in  respect  of  dif- 
ferent constitutions  of  body,  and  prejudices  of  opinion, 
gives  every  thing  a  tincture  of  our  different  passions. 
And  therefore  in  reasoning  a  man  must  take  heed  of 
words;  which  besides  the  signification  of  what  we  im- 
agine of  their  nature,  have  a  signification  also  of  the  na- 


H 


I 


130 


LEVIATHAN 


! 


ture,  disposition,  and  interest  of  the  speaker;  such  as 
are  the  names  of  virtues  and  vices ;  for  one  man  calleth 
wisdom,  what  another  calleth  fear;  and  one  cruelty,  what 
another  justice;  one  prodigality,  what  another  magna- 
nimity; and  one  gravity,  what  another  stupidity,  &c. 
And  therefore  such  names  can  never  be  true  grounds 
of  any  ratiocination.  No  more  can  metaphors,  and 
tropes  of  speech;  but  these  are  less  dangerous,  because 
they  profess  their  inconstancy;  which  the  other  do  not. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF  REASON  AND  SCIENCE. 

When  a  man  reasoneth,  he  does  nothing  else  but  con- 
ceive a  sum  total,  from  addition  of  parcels;  or  conceive  a 
remainder,  from  subtraction  of  one  sum  from  another; 
which,  if  it  be  done  by  words,  is  cpnceivingLqLth^ 
quenceoldiinameioLa^^ 

whole;  or  from  the  names  of  the  whole  and  one  part, 
to  the  name  of  the  other  part.  And  though  in  some  thmgs, 
as  in  numbers,  besides  adding  and  subtracting,  men  name 
other    operations,    as    multiplying    and    dividing,    yet 
thev    are    the    same;    for    multiplication,     is    but    ad- 
ding together  of  things  equal ;  and  division,  but  subtract- 
ing of  one  thing,  as  often  as  we  can.      These  operations 
are  not  incident  to  numbers  only,  but  to  all  manner 
of  things  that  can  be  added  together,  and  taken  one 
out  of  another.       For  as  arithmeticians  teach  to  add 
and  subtract  in  numbers;  so  the  geometricians  teach  the 
same  in  lines,  figures,  solid  and  superficial,  angles,  pro- 
portions, times,  degrees  of  swiftness,  force,  power,  and 
the  like ;  the  logicians  teach  the  same  in  consequences  of 
words;  adding  together  two  names  to  make  an   amr- 
mation,  and  two  aMrmations  to  make  a  syllogism;  and 
many  syllogisms  to  make  a  demonstration;  and  from  the 
sum,  or  conclusion  of  a  syllogism,  they   subtract  one 
proposition  to  find  the  other.     Writers  of  politics  add 
together  pactions  to  find  men's  duties;  and  lawyers,  laws 
and  facts,  to  find  what  is  right  and  wrong  in  the  actions 
of  private  men.  ( In  sum,  in  what  matter  soever  there  / 
is  place  for  addition  and  subtraction,  there  also  is  place  f 
for  recson;  and  where  these  have  no  place,  there  reason  j 
has  nothing  at  all  to  do. 


-tl} 


>-Ur  r- 


a^ 


/ 


132 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  REASON  AND  SCIENCE 


(33 


xo^--*-* 


x,rt- 


Out  of  all  which  we  may  define,  that  is  to  say  de- 
termine, what  that  is,  which  is  meant  by  this  word  rea- 
son, when  we  reckon  it  amongst  the  faculties  of  the  mind. 
For  REASON,  in  this  sense,  is  yothing  but  reckoninz*  that 
is  adding  and_subtracting;^of  theconsequences  of  general 
names  agreed  upon  for  the  marking  and  signifying  of 
our~lh~oughts ;  I  say  marking  them  when  we  reckon  by 
ourselves,  and  signifying,  when  we  demonstrate  or  ap- 
prove our  reckonings  to  other  men.* 

And,  as  in  arithmetic,  unpractised  men  must,  and 
professors  themselves  may  often,  err,  and  cast  up  false; 
so  also  in  any  other  subject  of  reasoning,  the  ablest,  most 
attentive,  and  most  practised  men  may  deceive  themselves, 
and  infer  false  conclusions;  not  but  that  reason  itself  is 
always  right  reason,  as  well  as  arithmetic  is  a  certain 
and  infallible  art :  but  no  one  man's  reason,  nor  the  reason 
of  any  one  number  of  men,  makes  the  certainty ;  no  more 
than  an  account  is  therefore  well  cast  up,  because  a 
great  many  men  have  unanimously  approved  it.  And 
therefore,  as  when  there  is  a  controversy  in  an  account, 
the  parties  must  by  their  own  accord,  set  up,  for  right 
reason,  the  reason  of  some  arbitrator,  or  judge,  to  whose 
sentence  they  will  both  stand,  or  their  controversy  must 
either  come  to  blows,  or  be  undecided,  for  want  of  a 
right  reason  constituted  by  nature;  so  it  is  also  in  all 
debates  of  what  kind  soever.  And  when  men  that 
think  themselves  wiser  than  all  others,  clamour  and  de- 
mand right  reason  for  judge,  yet  seek  no  more,  but  that 
things  should  be  determined,  by  no  other  men's  reason 
but  their  own,  it  is  as  intolerable  in  the  society  of  men,  as 
it  is  in  play  after  trump  is  turned,  to  use  for  trump  on 
every  occasion,  that  suite  whereof  thev  have  most  in 


*  Compare  above  Elements  of  Philosophy,  p.  4f. 


their  hand.  For  they  do  nothing  else,  that  wUl  tevc 
every  of  their  passions,  as  .t  comes  to  bear  sway  m  them, 
"be  taken  for  right  reason,  and  that  .n  the.r  o-n  con- 
Sroversies:  bewraying  their  want  of  nght  reason,  by 
the  claim  they  lay  to  it.» 

»<;a    „      AUn  Philosol>htcal  Rudiments, 
•Compare  below  p.    «^'  »■  „^l°°/thn«  "»  <•"•'•*  "''*"• 

houses,  temples;  to  move   "'7'  J"f//*«nes    serving   for   all 
send   securely  over   seas     to   contnveengin^^^  ^^^^^ 

manner  of  uses;  to  be  well  f  J"^'?'*^  * "ns  of  Ae  year,  <he  ac- 
world,  the  courses  of  the  stars   the  seaso'is  o^  we  y  ^^^^^^^^^^ 

counts  of  the  times  and  l''?,  "f^s-  and  all  minner  of  sciences, 
perfectly  all  nat"'!' »"<!  f'l^'lJi^ilV  of  phUosophy.  are  necessary 
which,  -omprehended  ""<l,^f'>'^XT°*  7' the  understanding  of 

partly  to  live,  partly  «  l'^«  "I',!  ^'j  it)  is  to  be  learnt  from 
these  (because  Christ  "^a*  not  delivered  «t)^t^^^ 

reasoning :  that  is  to  '^V' ^^  "J^^^^fgf^tTKF^iiHTSSon. 

ing  first  taken  the  beg-i^?  f^^L^^"  ^„i  consequently, 
inlrare  sometimes-rSglSrsomet^^^^^^ 

that  which  IS  concluded  and  M<1  *°'  =  l^^  these  philosophical 
sometimes  error..    Now  errors    even  awut  ^  y^,  ^j  i 

points,  do  sometimes  ?"}>>«=.''";' J  therefore,  as  oft  as  any 
seditions  and  imunes.     It   is    nee<ltui   i"  '  y;^       oj 

controversy  ariseth  in  t''«\f,='!^'LS°to  judge  of  the  reason- 
and  common  peace, that  there  b«  somebody  o  P^8^  ^    ^^  ^j  ^tly 

ing.  that  is  to  say,  whether  ^ha'  ~  '^^^^'^e  ended.  But 
inferred  or  not;  that  ^o  the  controversy  may  ^ 

there  are  no  rules  given  by  pr'^t  'o  *""  P^J^therefore  that  the\ 
he  into  the  world  to  teach .'"«''/  <^Vhe«me  with   those   whom  I 

judges  of  such  «''lt^°y;«';t'f  u,^*  ^namely  tTose  who  in  each 
bod  by  "ature  had  instnuted  be  ore,  na-^ely^^     ,^  ^  controversy 

c  ty  are  constituted  by  the  sovereign^      sieniHcation,  that  ts,  the 

!i%"l"'  n    Jhose'namel  o?VpeXtio'„f  which  are  commonly    , 
definition  of  ihose  1?"?^'  "^?K'^  f.,  the  peace  of  the  city,  or 
used;  insomuch  /^ ■«  '^  "ff  i"  „„ined •  the  determination  will 
■  the  distribution  of  right  to  >»«  ^^*"."'"„.;oning.   do   search  out 
belong  to   the   city       For   men.   ^X   "l^?™"^.  ^„^^.  . 

such  kind  of  definitions  m  «""'  "X^ranoellations  were  used 
tions.  for  the  signification  f"'^^  ^^°^,,^^&'Z  <iecx,\m  oi 
at  diverse  times  and  to'  "'V'T'*  ,^*"°;*- ._?tiv  belongs  to  the 
the  question,  whether  a  man  do  J^?„7j^^H',^ir(|i  an  un-  ' 

city.  For  "a-rP'*', iM^^Xbid  10  kill  a  man;  the  question 
wonted  shape,  and  the  'aw  lorpm  .     .  j  ^  therefore,  what  , 


•^ 


.734 


LEVIATHAN 


The  use  and  end  of  reason,  is  not  the  finding  of  the 
sum  and  truth  of  one,  or  a  few  consequences,  remote 
from  the  first  definitions,  and  settled  significations  of 
names,  but  to  begin  at  these,  af  d  proceed  from  one  con- 
sequence to  another.  For  there  can  be  no  certainty  of 
the  last  conclusion,  without  a  certainty  of  all  those  af- 
firmations and  negations,  on  which  it  was  grounded  and 
inferred.  As  when  a  master  of  a  family,  in  taking  an 
account,  casteth  up  the  sums  of  all  the  bills  of  expense 
into  one  sum,  and  not  regarding  how  each  bill  is  sum- 
ed  up,  by  those  that  give  them  in  account ;  nor  what  it  is 
he  pays  for ;  he  advantages  himself  no  more,  than  if  he 
allowed  the  account  in  gross,  trusting  to  every  of  the 

"In  the  state  of  nature,  where  every  man  is  his  own  judge,  and 
dittereth  from  other  concerning  the  names  and  appellations  of 
thmgs,  and  from  those  differences  arise  quarrels  and  breach  of 
peace  it  was  necessary  there  should  be  a  common  measure  of  all 
tftmgs,  that  might  fall  m  controversy.  As  for  example;  of  what 
If  to  be  called  right,  what  good,  what  virtue,  what  much,  what 
little,  what  meum  and  tuum,  what  a  pound,  what  a  quart.  &c. 
l^or  m  these  things  private  judgments  may  differ,  and  beget  con^ 
troversy.  I  his  common  measure,  some  say.  is  right  reason: 
with  whom  I  should  consent,  if  there  were  any  such  thing  to  be 
tound  or  known  m  rerum  natura.    But  commonly  they  that  call 

T?«.  7?-  •''"'"'''^r  -^^  ^^""^"^^  ^^y  controversy,  do  mean  their  own. 
I5ut  this  is  certain,  seeing  right  reason  is  not  existent,  the  rea- 
son ot  some  man  or  men  must  supply  the  place  thereof;  and  that 
man  or  men  is  he  or  they,  that  have  the  sovereign  power,  as 
hath  been  already  proved;  and  consequently  the  civil  laws  are 
to  all  subjects  the  measures  of  their  actions,  whereby  to  deter- 
mine, whether  they  be  right  or  wrong,  profitable  or  unprofitable, 
virtuous  or  vicious;  and  by  them  the  use  and  definition  of  all 
names  not  agreed  upon,  and  tending  to  controversy,  shall  be 
estabhshed.  Compare  also  above  Elements  of  Philosophy  Ch. 
I,  bee.  2,  with  notes,  p.  2f;  and  Human  Nature  (M.  IV. '24). 
wow  vhen  a  man  reasoneth  from  principles  that  are  found 
indubitable  by  experience,  all  deceptions  of  sense  and  equivoca- 
tion of  words  avoided,  the  conclusion  he  maketh  is  said  to  be 
according  to  right  reason:  but  when  from  his  conclusion  a 
man  may,  by  good  ratiocination,  derive  that  which  is  contra- 
dtctory  to  any  evident  truth  whatsoever,  then  he  is  said  to  have 
concluded  against  reason:  and  such  a  conclusion  is  called  ab- 
^irdity. 


i 

1 


OF  REASON  AND  SCIENCE 


135 


accountants*  skill  and  honesty :  so  also  in  reasoning  of  all 
other  things,  he  that  takes  up  conclusions  on  the  trust  of 
authors,  and  doth  not  fetch  them  from  the  first  items 
in  every  reckoning,  which  are  the  significations  of  names 
settled  by  defintions,  loses  his  labour;  and  does  not 
know  anything,  but  only  believeth.  ^ 

When  a  man  reckons  without  the  use  of  words,  which 
may  be  done  in  particular  things,  as  when  upon  the  sight 
of  any  one  thing,  we  conjecture  what  was  likely  to  have 
preceded,  or  is  likely  to  follow  upon  it ;  if  that  which  he 
thought  likely  to  follow,  follows  not,  or  that  which  he 
thought  likely  to  have  preceded  it,  hath  not  preceded  it, 
this  is  called  error;  to  which  even  the  most  prudent  men 
are  subject.     But  when  we  reason  in  words  of  general 
signification,  and  fall  upon  a  general  inference  which 
is  false,  though  it  be  commonly  called  error y  it  is  in- 
deed an  absurdity,  or  senseless  speech.     For  error  is 
but  a  deception,  in  presuming  that  somewhat  is  passed, 
or  to  come ;  of  which,  though  it  were  not  past,  or  not  to 
come,  yet  there  was  no  impossibility  discoverable.     But 
when  we  make  a  general  assertion,  unless  it  be  a  true  one, 
the  possibility  of  it  is  inconceivable.     And  words  where- 
by we  conceive  nothing  but  the  sound,  are  those  we  call 
absurd,  insigni£cant,  and  nonsense.     And  therefore  if 
a  man  should  talk  to  me  of  a  round  quadrangle;  or,  ac- 
cidents^oi  bread  injheese;  or  immaterial  substances;  or 
of  a  free  subject;  a  free  zvill;  or  any  free,  but  free  from 
being  hindered  by  opposition,  I  should  not  say  he  were  m 
an  error,  but  that  his  words  were  without  meaning,  that 

is  to  sav,  absurd. 

I  have  said  before,  in  the  second  chapter,  that  a  man 
did  excel  all  other  animals  in  this  faculty,  that  when  he 
conceived  any  thing  whatsoever,  he  was  apt  to  inquire  the 
concequences  of  it,  and  what  effects  he  could  do  with 


) 


13(6 


LEVIATHAN 


it.    And  now  I  add  this  other  degree  of  the  same  excel- 

(lence,  that  he  can  by  words  reduce  the  consequences  he 
finds  to  general  rules,  called  theorems,  or  aphorisms;  that 
is,  he  can  reason,  or  reckon,  not  only  in  number,  but  in  all 
other  things,  whereof  one  may  be  added  unto,  or  subtract- 
ed from  another. 

I  But  this  privilege  is  allayed  by  another;  and  that 
I  is,  by  the  privilege  of  absurdity ;  to  which  no  living 
j  creature  is  subject,  but  man  only.  And  of  men,  those  are 
of  all  most  subject  to  it,  that  profess  philosophy.  For  it  is 
most  true  that  Cicero  saith  of  them  somewhere ;  that  there 
can  be  nothing  so  absurd,  but  may  be  found  in  the  books 
of  philosophers.  And  the  reason  is  manifest.  For  there 
is  not  one  of  them  that  begins  his  ratiocination  from  the 
definitions,  or  explications  of  the  names  they  are  to  use ; 
which  is  a  method  that  hath  been  used  only  in  geometry ; 
whose  conclusions  have  thereby  been  made  indisputable. 

I.  The  first  cause  of  absurd  conclusions  I  ascribe  to 
the  want  of  method ;  in  that  they  begin  not  their  ratiocin- 
ation from  definitions;  that  is,  from  settled  significations 
of  their  words:  as  if  they  could  cast  account,  without 
knowing  the  value  of  the  numeral  words,  one,  two,  and 
three. 

And  whereas  all  bodies  enter  into  account  upon  divers 
considerations,  which  I  have  mentioned  in  the  precedent 
chapter;  these  considerations  being  diversely  named, 
divers  absurdities  proceed  from  the  confusion,  and  unfit 
connexion  of  their  names  into  assertions.    And  therefore, 

II.  The  second  cause  of  absurd  assertions,  I  ascribe 
to  the  giving  of  names  of  bodies  to  accidents;  or  of  acci- 
dents to  bodies;  as  they  do,  that  say,  faith  is  infused,  or 
inspired;  when  nothing  can  be  poured,  or  breathed  into 
anything, but  body;  and  that,  extension  is  body;  that 
phantasms  are  spirits,  &c. 


OF  REASON  AND  SCIENCE 


«37 


iiL  The  third  I  ascribe  to  the  giving  of  the  names  of 
the  accidents  of  dodies  without  us,  to  the  accidents  of  our 
own  bodies;  as  they  do  that  say,  the  colour  is  in  the 
body;  the  sound  is  in  the  air,  &c. 

iv.  The  fourth,  to  the  giving  of  the  names  of  bodies 
to  names,  or  speeches;  as  they  do  that  say,  that  there  be 
things  universal;  that  a  living  creature  is  genus,  or  a 

general  thing,  &c. 

V.  The  fifth,  to  the  giving  of  the  names  of  accidents 
to  names  and  speeches;  as  they  do  that  say,  the  nature  of 
a  thing  is  its  dciinition;  a  man's  command  is  his  will; 

and  the  like. 

VI.  The  sixth,  to  the  use  of  metaphors,  tropes,  and 
other  rhetorical  figures,  instead  of  words  proper.  For 
though  it  be  lawful  to  say,  for  example,  in  common 
speech,  the  way  goeth,  or  leadeth  hither,  or  thither;  the 
proverb  says  this  or  that,  whereas  ways  cannot  go,  nor 
proverbs  speak ;  yet  in  reckoning,  and  seeking  of  truth, 
such  speeches  are  not  to  be  admitted. 

VII.  The  seventh,  to  names  that  signify  nothing ;  but 
are  taken  up,  and  learned  by  rote  from  the  schools,  as 
hypostatical,  transubstantiate,  consubstantiate,  eternal- 
now,  and  the  like  canting  of  schoolmen.' 

To  him  that  can  avoid  these  things  it  is  not  easy  to 
fall  into  any  absurdity,  unless  it  be  by  the  length  of  an  ac- 
count ;  wherein  he  may  perhaps  forget  what  went  before. 
For  all  men  by  nature  reason  ^like,  and  well,  when  they 
have  good  principles.  For  who  is  so  stupid,  as  both  to 
mistake  in  geometry,  and  also  to  persist  in  it,  when  an- 
other detects  his  error  to  him  ? 

I      By  this  it  appears  that  reason  is  not,  as  sense  and  mem- 
Ibry,  bom  with  us ;  nor  gotten  by  experience  only,  as  pru- 


■  Compare  above,  Elements  of  Philosophy,  p.  39^- 


•:/ 


133 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  REASON  AND  SCIENCE 


139 


m 


dencc  is ;  but  attained  by  industry ;  first  in  apt  imposing 
of  names ;  and  secondly  by  getting  a  good  and  orderly 
method  in  proceeding  from  the  elements,  which  are  names, 
to  assertions  made  by  connexion  of  one  of  them  to  anoth- 
er; and  so  to  syllogisms,  \s1iich  are  the  connexions  of 
one  assertion  to  another,  till  we  come  to  a  knowledge  of 
all  the  consequences  of  names  appertainingJoJhfLSubject 
iiThahd ;  and  tEat  is  it,  men_can_sciENCE.  And  whereas 
sense  and  memory  are  buTknowledge  oUact,  which  is  a 
thing  past  and  irrevocable,  ^cience  is  the  knowledge  of 
f  onseauences,  and  dependanrp  of  one  fact  upon  another^* 
by  which,  out  of  that  we  can  presently  do, we  know  Sow 
to  do  something  else  when  we  will,  or  the  like  another 
time;  because  when  we  see  how  anything  comes  about, 
upon  what  causes,  and  by  what  manner;  when  the  like 
causes  come  into  our  power,  we  see  how  to  make  it  pro- 
duce the  like  effects. 

Children  therefore  are  not  endued  with  reason  at  all, 
till  they  have  attained  the  use  of  speech ;  but  are  called 
reasonable  creatures,  for  the  possibility  apparent  of  hav- 
ing the  use  of  reason  in  time  to  come.  And  the  most  part 
of  men,  though  they  have  the  use  of  reasoning  a  little 
way,  as  in  numbering  to  some  degree ;  yet  it  serves  them 
to  little  use  in  common  life ;  in  which  they  govern  them- 
selves, some  better,  some  worse,  according  to  their  dif- 
ferences of  experience,  quickness  of  memory,  and  incli- 
nations to  several  ends;  but  specially  according  to  good 
or  evil  fortune,  and  the  errors  of  one  another.  For  as 
for  science,  or  certain  rules  of  their  actions,  they  are  so 
far  from  it,  they  know  not  what  it  is.  Geometry  they 
have  thought  conjuring;  but  for  other  sciences,  they  who 


( 


*  Compare  Leviathan  (M.  Ill,  368).     "Reason  serves  only  to 
convince  the  truth,  not  of  fact,  but,  of  consequence." 


have  not  been  taught  the  beginnings  and  some  progress 
in  them,  that  they  may  see  how  they  be  acquired  and  gen- 
erated, are  in  this  point  like  children,  that  having  no 
thought  of  generation,  are  made  believe  by  the  women  that 
their  brothers  and  sisters  are  not  born,  but  found  in  the 
garden. 

But  yet  they  that  have  no  science,  are  in  better,  and 
nobler  condition,  with  their  natural  prudence ;  than  men, 
that  by  mis-reasoning,  or  by  trusting  them  that  reason 
wrong,  fall  upon  false  and  absurd  general  rules.  For 
ignorance  of  causes,  and  of  rules,  does  not  set  men  so  far 
out  of  their  way,  as  relying  on  false  rules,  and  taking  for 
causes  of  what  they  aspire  to,  those  that  are  not  so,  but 
rather  causes  of  the  contrary. 

To  conclude,  the  light  of  human  minds  is  perspicu- 
ous words,  but  by  exact  definitions  first  snuffed,  and 
purged  from  ambiguity;  reason  is  the  pace;  increase  of 
science,  the  way;  and  the  benefit  of  mankind,  the  end,  / 
And,  on  the  contrary,  metaphors,  and  senseless  and  am- 
biguous words,  are  like  ignes  fatui;  and  reasoning  upon 
them  is  wandering  amongst  innumerable  absurdities ;  and 
their  end,  contention  and  sedition,  or  contempt. 

{As  much  experience  is  prudence;  so,  is  much  science 
sapience.  For  though  we  usually  have  one  name  of 
wisdom  for  them  both,  yet  the  Latins  did  always  distin- 
guish between  prudentia  and  sapientia;  ascribing  the  for- 
mer to  experience,  the  latter  to  science.  But  to  make 
their  difference  appear  more  clearly,  let  us  suppose  one 
man  endued  with  an  excellent  natural  use  and  dexterity 
in  handling  his  arms ;  and  another  to  have  added  to  that 
dexterity,  an  acquired  science,  of  where  he  can  offend, 
or  be  offended  by  his  adversary,  in  every  possible  posture 
or  guard :  the  ability  of  the  former,  would  be  to  the  ability 
of  the  latter,  as  prudence  to  sapience;  both  useful;  but 


« 


140  LEVIATHAN 

the  latter  infallible.  But  they  that  trusting  only  to  the 
authority  of  books,  follow  the  blind  blindly,  are  like  him 
that,  trusting  to  the  false  rules  of  a  master  of  fence,  ven- 
tures presumptuously  upon  an  adversary,  that  either  kills 
or  disgraces  him.' 


•Compare  above,  p.  47,  n    i,  ^^^  Mow  i^*/um.  C^Pters 

VII  and  IX.     Also  Human  Nature,  (M.  IV,  28,  50).     .  .*^"°^* 

edge  thereof,  which  we  call  science,  I   define  to  ^%^f'^''jl 

truth,  from  some  beginning  or  principle  of  sense:  ^or  the  tryth 

of  a  proposition  is  never  evident,  until  we  f  o^^^^X^,  ^he  jnea^^^^^^^ 

of  the  words  or  terms  whereof  it  consisteth,  which  are  always 

gLcepuCs^f  the  mind:  nor  can  we  remember  ^^- ^^^''^^^;, 

with^rTfiTthing  that  produced  the  same  byour  senses.     1  he 

I  first  principle  of  knowledge  is,  tEat^;;^rEi^e  sjch  and^such  ran- 

I  ceptihns;  the  second,  that  we  have  thus  and  thus  named  the 

things  whereof  they  are  conceptions;  the  th^rd  is,  that  we  have 

1   joined  those  names  in  such  manner  as  to  make  true  P^opos^ons 

I     he  fourth  and  last  is,  that  we  have  ^^»''^^/^°f,f„7h^"^f  "J^ 
in  such  manner  as  they  be  concluding,  and  the  truth  ot  tlie 
conclusioJTsaid  to  be  known.    And  of  these  two  kinds  of  knowl- 
edge, whereof  the  former  is  experience  of  fact   and  the  latter    , 
e^dence  of  truth;  as  the  former,  li  it  be  great,  is  called  pru^ 
dence;  so  the  latter,  if  it  be  much,  hath  usually  been  called  both 
by  ancient  and  modem  y^rxttTS  sapience  or  wisdom :  and  of  this 
Utter,  man  only  is  capable;   of   the   former,    brute   bjaf  ^If 
narticioate        ♦      ♦      *      *      Forasmuch  as  all  knowledge  be- 
«nneth  from  experience,  therefore  also  new  experience  is  the 
beginning  of  new  knowledge,  and  the  increase  of  experience  the 
beiinnini  of  the  increase  of  knowledge.     Whatsoever  therefore 
happeneth  new  to  a  man,  giveth  him  matter  of  hoje  of  know- 
ing somev^h^t  that  he  knev,  not  before.     And  this  hope  and 
expectation  of  future  knowledge  from  anything  that  happenet 
new   and    strange,    is   that   passion    which    we    commonly    call 
admiration;  and  the  same  considered  as  appetite,  is  called  cur- 
iosity,  which   is   appetite   of   knowledge.     .  As  m  the  discerning 
of  faculties,  man  leaveth  all  community  with  beasts  at  the  tac- 
ulty  of  imposing  names;  so  also  doth  he  surmount  their  nature 
at  this  Passion  of  curiosity.  For  when  a  beast  seeth  anything  new 
and  strange  to  him,  he  considereth  it  so  far  only  as  to  discern 
whether  it  be  likely  to  serve  his  turn,  or  hurt  him,  and  according- 
ly approacheth  nearer  to  it,  or  fleeth  from  it:  whereas  man, who  in 
most  events   remembereth  in  what  manner  they  were  caused  and 
begun,  looketh  for  the  cause  and  beginning  of  everything  that 
ariseth  new    unto  him.    And  from  this  passion  of  admiration  and 
curiosity,  have  arisen  not  only  the  invention  of  names,  but  also 
supposition  of  such  causes  of  all  things  as  they  thought  might 


OF  REASON  AND  SCIENCE 


MI 


The  signs  of  science  are  some,  certain  and  infallibk; 
some,  uncertain.  Certain,  when  he  that  pretendeth  the 
science  of  anything,  can  teach  the  same :  that  is  to  say, 
demonstrate  the  truth  thereof  perspicuously  to  another; 
uncertain,  when  only  some  particular  events  answer  to 
his  pretence,  and  upon  many  occasions  prove  so  as  he 
says  they  must.    Signs  of  prudence  are  zM  uncertain ;  be- 


produce  them.  And  from  this  beginning  is  derived  all  philoso- 
phy; as  astronomy  from  the  admiration  of  the  course  of  heav- 
en; natural  philosophy  from  the  -trange  effects  of  the  elements 
and  other  bodies.  And  from  the  degrees  of  curiosity,  proceed  also 
the  degrees  of  knowledge  amongst  men:  for,  to  a  man  in  the 
chase  of  riches  or  authority,  (which  in  respect  of  knowledge  are 
but  sensuality)  it  is  a  diversity  of  little  pleasure,  whether  it  be  the 
motion  of  the  sun  or  the  earth  that  maketh  the  day,  or  to  enter 
into  other  contemplations  of  any  strange  accident,  otherwise  than 
whether  it  conduce  or  not  to  the  end  he  pursueth.  Because 
curiosity  is  delight,  therefore  also  novelty  is  so,  but  especially 
that  novelty  from  which  a  man  conceiveth  an  opinion  true  or  false 
of  bettering  his  own  estate ;  for,  in  such  case,  they  stand  affected 
with  the  hope  that  all  gamesters  have  while  the  cards  are  shuf- 
fling." Note  the  limitation  of  knowledge  expressed  in  Philosoph- 
ical Rudiments,  (M.  II,  217).  "It  is  supposed  that  all  things  in 
the  natural  kingdom  of  God  are  inquired  into  by  reason  only, 
that  is  to  say,  out  of  the  principles  of  natural  science.  But  we  are 
so  far  off  by  these  to  attain  to  the  knowledge  of  the  nature  of 
God,  that  we  cannot  so  much  as  reach  to  the  full  understanding 
of  all  the  qualities  of  our  own  bodies,  or  of  any  other  creatures. 
Wherefore  there  comes  nothing  from^  these  disputes,  but  a  rash 
imposition  of  names  to  the  divine  Majesty  according  to  the  small 
measure  of  our  conceptions."  Also  Leviathan  (M.  Ill,  353)- 
"Disputing  of  God's  nature  is  contrary  to  his  honour:  for  it  is 
supposed,  that  in  this  natural  kingdom  of  God,  there  is  no  other 
way  to  know  anything,  but  by  natural  reason,  that  is,  from  the 
principles  of  natural  science;  which  are  so  far  from  teaching  us 
anything  of  God's  nature,  as  they  cannot  teach  us  our  own  nature, 
nor  the  nature  of  the  smallest  creature  living.  And  therefore, 
when  men  out  of  the  principles  of  natural  reason,^  dispute  of 
the  attributes  of  God,  they  but  dishonour  him :  for  in  the  attri- 
butes which  we  give  to  God,  we  are  not  to  consider  the  signi- 
fication of  philosophical  truth ;  but  the  signification  of  pious  in- 
tention, to  do  him  the  greatest  honour  we  are  able.  From  the 
want  of  which  consideration,  have  proceeded  the  volumes  of  dis- 
putation about  the  nature  of  God,  that  tend  not  to  his  honour, 
but  to  the  honour  of  our  own  wits  and  learning ;  ^  and  are 
nothing  else  but  inconsiderate   and   vain   abuses   of  his   sacred 


name. 


( 


143 


LEVIATHAN 


cause  to  observe  by  experience,  and  remember  all  circum* 
stances  that  may  alter  the  success,  is  impossible.  But 
in  any  business,  whereof  a  man  has  not  infallible  science 
to  proceed  by ;  to  forsake  his  ovhi  natural  judgment,  and 
be  guided  by  general  sentences  read  in  authors,  and  sub- 
ject to  many  exceptions,  is  a  sign  of  folly,  and  generally 
iscomed  by  the  name  of  pedantry.  And  even  of  those  men 
themselves,  that  in  councils  of  the  commonwealth  love 
to  show  their  reading  of  politics  and  history,  very  few  do 
it  in  their  domestic  affairs,  where  their  particular  interest 
is  concerned;  having  prudence  enough  for  their  private 
affairs:  but  in  public  they  study  more  the  reputation  of 
their  own  wit.  than  the  success  of  another's  business. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  THE   INTERIOR   BEGINNINGS  OF  VOLUNTARY    MOTIONS; 

COMMONLY  CALLED  THE  PASSIONS ;  AND  THE 

SPEECHES  BY  WHICH  THEY  ARE  EXPRESSED. 

There  be  in  animals,  two  sorts  of  motions  peculiar  to 
them:  one  called  vital;  begun  in  generation,  and  con- 
tinued without  interruption  through  their  whole  life; 
such  as  are  the  course  of  the  blood,  the  pulse,  the  breath- 
ing, the  concoction,  nutrition,  excretion,  &c.,  to  which 
motions  there  needs  no  help  of  imagination:  the  other 
is  animal  motion,  otherwise  called  voluntary  motion;  as 
to  go,  to  speak,  to  move  any  of  our  limbs,  in  such  manner 
as  is  first  fancied  in  our  minds.*     That  sense  is  motion 


^Compare  Elements  of  Philosophy,  (M.  I.  407).  "Now 
vital  motion  is  the  motion  of  the  blood,  perpetually  cir- 
culating (as  hath  'been  shown  from  many  infallible  signs  and 
marks  by  Dr.  Harvey,  the  first  observer  of  it)  in  the  veins  and 
arteries.  Which  motion,  when  it  is  hindered  by  some  other  mo- 
tion made  by  the  action  of  sensible  objects,  may  be  restored  again 
either  by  bending  or  setting  straight  the  parts  of  the  body; 
which  is  done  when  the,  spirits  are  carried  now  into  these,  now 
into  other  nerves,  till  the  pain,  as  far  as  is  possible,  be  quite  taken 
away.  But  if  vital  motion  be  helped  by  motion  made  by  sense, 
then  the  parts  of  the  organ  will  be  disposed  to  guide  the  spirits 
in  such  manner  as  conduceth  most  to  the  preservation  and  aug- 
mentation of  that  motion,  by  the  help  of  the  nerves.  And  in 
animal  motion  this  is  the  very  first  endeavour,  and  found  even 
in  the  embryo ;  which  while  it  is  in  the  womb,  moveth  its  limbs 
with  voluntary  motion,  for  the  avoiding  of  whatsoever  troubleth 
it,  or  for  the  pursuing  of  what  pleaseth  it.  And  this  first  en- 
deavor, when  it  tends  towards  such  things  as  are  known  by 
experience  to  be  pleasant,  is  called  appetite,  that  is,  an  approach- 
ing; and  when  it  shuns  what  is  troublesome,  aversion,  or  flying 
from  it.  And  little  infants,  at  the  beginning  and  as  soon  as  they 
are  born,  have  appetite  to  very  few  things,  as  also  they  avoid  very 
few,  by  reason  of  their  want  of  experience  and  memory;  and 
therefore  they  have  not  so  great  a  variety  of  animal  motion  as 
we  see  in  those  that  are  more  grown.  For  it  is  not  possible, 
without  such  knowledge  as  is  derived  from  sense,  that  is^  without 


Il/ 


144 


LEVIATHAN 


in  the  organs  and  interior  parts  of  man's  body,  caused  by 
the  action  of  the  things  we  see,  hear,  &c. ;  and  that  fancy 
is  but  the  relics  of  the  same  motion,  remaining  after 
sense,  has  been  already  said  in  the  first  and  second  chap- 
ters.   And  because  going,  speaking,  and  the  like  volunta- 
ry motions,  depend  always  upon  a  precedent  thought  of 
whither,  which  way,  and  what;  it  is  evident,  that  the  im- 
agination  is  the  first  internal  beginning  of  all  voluntary 
motion.    And  although  unstudied  men  do  not  conceive 
any  motion  at  all  to  be  there,  where  the  thing  moved 
is  invisible ;  or  the  space  it  is  moved  in  is,  for  the  short- 
ness of  it,  insensible;  yet  that  doth  not  hinder,  but  that 
such  motions  are.    For  let  a  space  be  never  so  little,  that 
which  is  moved  over  a  greater  space,  whereof  that  little 
one  is  part,  must  first  be  moved  over  that.    These  small 
beginnings  of  motion,  within  the  body  of  man,  before 


experience  and  memory,  to  know   what  wil    P^ojc  pleasant  or 
hurtful;  only  there  is  some  place  for  conjecture  ^ J<5"?  ^^^^^.l^^^^^ 
or  aspects  of  things.    And  hence  it  is,  that  though  they  do  not 
know  what  may  do  them  good  or  harm,  yet  sometimes  they  ap- 
proach  and  sometimes  retire  from  the  same  thing,  as  their  doubt 
prompts  them.     But  afterwards,  by  accustoming  themselvw^^ 
little  and  little,  they  come  to  know  readily  what  is  to  be  pursued 
and  what  to  be  avoided;  and  also  to  have  a  ready  use  of  their 
nerves  and  other  organs,  in  the  pursuing  and  avoiding  of  good 
and   bad.      Wherefore   appetite   and   aversion   are   the   tirst   en- 
deavours of  animal  motion.     Consequent  to  this  first  endeavour 
is  the  impulsion  into  the  nerves  and  retraction  again  of  animal 
spirits,  of  which  it  is  necessary  there  be  some  receptacle  or  place 
near  the  original  of  the  nerves;  and  this  motion  or  endeavour  is 
followed  by  a  swelling  and  relaxation  of  the  "^^^s^les;  and  last- 
ly, these  are  followed  by  contraction  and  extension  ot.™/mibs. 
which  is  animal  motion."     Also   Human    Nature,    (M.  IV,  30). 
"That  power  of  the  mind  which  we  call  wo/iz/^.  differeth  from 
the  power  motive  of  the  body;  for  the  power  mofiz;^  of  ^^l^ody 
is  that  by  which  it  mozeth  other  bodies,  and  we  call  strengtn. 
but  the  power  motive  of  the  mind,  is  that  by  which  the  mind 
£iveth  animal  motion  to  that  body  wherein  it  existeth ;  the  acts 
Eereof  are  our  affections  and  passions,  of  which  I  am  to  speak  m 
general." 


OF  PASSIONS 


HS 


they  appear  in  walking,  speaking,   striking,  and  other 
visible  actions,  are  commonly  called  endeavour.* 

This  endeavour,  when  it  is  toward  something  which 
causes  it,  is  rallpdjv^PETiTE,.  or  desire;  the  latter,  being 
the  general  name ;  and  the  other  oftentimes  restrained  to 
signify  the  desire  of  food,  namely  hunger  and  thirst. 
And  when  the  endeavour  is  fromward  something,  it  is  gen- 
erally called  AVERSION.      These  words,  appetite  and  aver- 
sion, we  have  from  the  Latins;  and  they  both  of  them 
signify  the  motions,  one  of  approaching,  the  other  of 
retiring.   So  also  do  the  Greek  words  for  the  same,  which 
are  ^pf^i  and  d^opfiij.     For  nature  itself  does  often 
press  upon  men  those  truths,  which  afterwards,  when 
they  look  for  somewhat  beyond  nature,  they  stumble  at. 
For  the  Schools  find  in  mere  appetite  to  go,  or  move,  no 
actual  motion  at  all :  but  because  some  motion  they  must 
acknowledge,  they  call  it  metaphorical  motion;    which 

=•  Compare  Elements  of  Philosophy.      (M.   I,  206).      "I  <1«- 
fine   ENDEAVOUR    to    be   motion    made    m   less    space   and    time 
than  can  be  given;  that  is,  less  than  can  be  determined  or  a^- 
signed  by  exposition  or  number;  that  is,  motion  made  through 
the  length  of  a  point,  and  in  an  instant  or  point  of  time,    ^or 
the  explaining  of  which  definition  it  must  be  remembered    that 
by  a  point  is  not  to  be  understood  that  which  has  no  quantity,  or 
which  cannot  by  any  means  be  divided;  for  there  is  no. juch  thing 
in  nature ;  but  that,  whose  quantity  is  not^  at  all  considered,  that 
is,  whereof  neither  quantity  nor  any  part  is  computed  i"  demon- 
stration ;  so  that  a  point  is  not  to  be  taken  for  an  indivisible,  but 
for  an  undivided  thing;  as  also  an  mstant  is  to  be  taken  for  an 
undivided,  and  not  for  an  indivisible  time.     In  like  manner,  en- 
deavour is  to  be  conceived  as  motion;  but  so  as  that  neither  the 
quantitv  of  the  time  in  which,  nor  of  the  line  in  which  it  is  made, 
mav  in'  demonstration  be  at  all  brought  mto  comparison  with  the 
quantitv  of  that  time,  or  of  that  line  of  which  it  is  a  part.     And 
yet,  as 'a  point  mav  he  compared  with  a  point,  so  one  endeavour 
may  be  compared  with  another  endeavour,  and  one  may  be  found 
to  be  greater  or  less  than  another."    Also  Decameron  Physxolog- 
icum,m.  VII.  87).    "In  all  motion,  as  in  all  quantity,  you  must 
take  the  beginning  of  your  reckoning  from  the  least  supposed  mo- 
tion.   And  this   I   call   the   first   endeavour   of   the   movement , 
which  endeavour,  how  weak  soever,  is  also  motion. 


146 


LEVIATHAN 


is  but  an  absurd  speech :  for  though  words  may  be  called 
metaphorical;  bodies  and  motions  can  not. 

I  That  which  men  desire,  they  are  also  said  to  love  : 
and  to  HATE  those  things  for  which  they  have  aversion* 
So  that  desire  and  love  are  the  same  thing;  save  that 
by  desire,  we  always  signify  the  absence  of  the  object;  by 
love,  most  commonly  the  presence  of  the  same-  So  also 
by  aversion,  we  signify  the  absence;  and  by  hate,  the 
presence  of  the  object.  . ' 

Of  appetites  and  aversions,  some  are  born  with  men; 
as  appetite  of  food,  appetite  of  excretion,  and  exonera* 
tion,  which  may  also  and  more  properly  be  called  aver- 
sions, from  somewhat  they  feel  in  their  bodies;  and 
some  other  appetites,  not  many.  The  rest,  which  are 
appetites  of  particular  things,  proceed  from  experience, 
and  trial  of  their  effects  upon  themselves  or  other  men. 
For  of  things  we  know  not  at  all,  or  believe  not  to  be, 
we  can  have  no  further  desire,  than  to  taste  and  try. 
But  aversion  we  have  for  things,  not  only  which  we 
know  have  hurt  us,  but  also  that  we  do  not  know  whether 
they  will  hurt  us,  or  not. 

Those  things  which  we  neither  desire,  nor  hate,  we 
are  said  to  contemn;  contempt  being  nothing  else  but 
an  immobility,  or  contumacy  of  the  heart,  in  resistmg  the 
action  of  certain  things;  and  proceeding  from  that  the 
heart  is  already  moved  otherwise,  by  other  more  potent 
objects ;  or  from  want  of  experience  of  them. 

And  because  the  constitution  of  a  man's  body  is  in 
continual  mutation,  it  is  impossible  that  all  the  same 
things  should  always  cause  in  him  the  same  appetites, 
and  aversions:  much  less  can  all  men  consent,  in  the 
desire  of  almost  any  one  and  the  same  object. 

But  whatsoever  is  the  object  of  any  man*s  appetite 
4^or  desire,  that  is  it  which  he  for  his  part  calleth  good:  and 


( 


OF  PASSIONS 


147 


I  the  object  of  his  hate  and  aversion,  hate  and  of  his  con- 
I  tempt,  vile  and  inconsiderable.  For  these  words  of  good, 
evil,  and  contemptible,  are  ever  used  with  relation  to 
the  person  that  useth  them :  there  being  nothing  simply 
and  absolutely  so;  nor  any  common  rule  of  good  and 
evil,  to  be  taken  from  the  nature  of  the  objects  themselves ; 
but  from  the  person  of  the  man,  where  there  is  no  com- 
monwealth ;  or,  in  a  commonwealth,  from  the  person  that 
representeth  it ;  or  from  an  arbitrator  or  judge,  whom  men 
disagreeing  shall  by  consent  set  up ,  and  make  his  sentence 
the  rule  thereof.' 


•Compare  below  p.   309.  Sec.   31.     Also  Philosophical  Rudi- 
ments, (M.  II,  77)'    "Since  it  no  less,  nay.  it  much  more  con- 
duceth  to  peace,  to  prevent  brawls  from  arismg  than  to  appease 
them  being  risen;  and  that  all  controversies  are  bred  from  hence, 
that  the  opinions  oi  men  differ  concerning  mcum  and  tuum,  just 
and  unjust,  profitable  and  unprofitable,  good  and  evil,  honest  and 
dishonest,  and  the  like ;  which  every  man  esteems  accordmg  to 
his  own  judgment:  it  belongs  to  the  same  chief  power  to  make 
some  common  rules  for  all  men,  and  to  declare  them  publicly,  by 
which  every  man  may  know  what  may  be  called  his.  what  an- 
other's, what  just,  what  unjust,  what  honest,  what  dishonest,  what 
good,  what  evil;  that  is  summarily,  what  is  to  be  done,  what  to 
be  avoided  in  our  common  course  of  life.     But  those  rules  and 
measures  are  usually  called  the  civil  laws,  or  the  laws  of  the  city, 
as  being  the  commands  of  htm  who  hath  the  supreme  power  in 
the  city.     And  the  livil  laws   (that  we  may  define  them)   are 
nothing  else  but  the  commands  of  him  zvho  hath  the  chief  author^ 
ity  in  the  city,  for  direction  of  the  future  actions  of  his  citizens. 
(M     II    150).     "But  one  and  the  first  which  disposeth  them  to 
sedition,  is  this,  that  ihe  knozvlcdge  of  good  and  evil  belongs  to 
each  sinole  man.    In  ihe  state  of  nature  indeed,  where  every  man 
lives  bv'equal  right,  and  has  not  by  any  mutual  pacts  submittea 
to  the  command  of  others,  we  have  granted  this  to  be  true . 
But  in  the  civil  state  it  is  false.     For  it  was  shown  that  the  civil 
laws  were  the  rules  of  ^ood  and  evil,  just  and  unjust,  honest  and 
dishonest;  that  therefore  what  the  legislator  commands,  must  be 
held  for  good,  and  what  ne  forbids  for  evil.    And  the  legislator 
is  ever  that  person  who  hath  the  supreme  power  in  the  common- 
weal, that  is  to  say,  the  monarch  in  a  monarchy.    We  have  con- 
firmed the  same  truth  in  chap.  XI,  art.  2,  out  of  the  words  of  bolo- 
mon.  For  if  private  men  may  pursue  that  as  good  and  shun  that 
as  evil,  which  appears  to  ihem  to  be  so,  to  what  end  serve  those 
words  of  his:  Give  therefore  unto  thy  servant  an  understanding 


t48 


LEVIATHAN 


The  Latin  tongue  has  two  words,  whose  significations 
approach  to  those  of  good  and  evil ;  but  are  not  pre- 
cisely the  same;  and  those  are  pulchrum  and  iurpe. 
Whereof  the  former  signifies  that,  which  by  some  ap- 
parent signs  promiseth  good ;  and  the  latter,  that  which 
promiseth  evil.  But  in  our  tongue  we  have 
not  so  general  names  to  express  them  by.  But  for 
pulchrum  we  say  in  some  things,  fair;  in  others,  beauti- 
ful, or  handsome,  or  gallant,  or  honourable,  or  comely,  or 
amiable;  and  for  turpe,  foul,  deformed,  ugly,  base,  nau- 
seous, and  the  like,  as  the  subject  shall  require ;  all  which 


heart  to  judge  thy  people,  that  I  may  discern  between  good  and 
evil?'  Since  therefore  it  belongs   to   kings   to  discern  between 
good  and  evil,  wicked  are  those,  though  usual,  sayings,  that  he 
only  is  a  king  who  does  righteously,  and  that  kings  must  not 
he  obeyed  unless  they  command  us  just  things;  and  many  other 
such  like.     Before  there  was  any  government,  just  and  unjust 
had  no  being,  their  nature  only  being  relative  to  some  command : 
and  every  action  in  its  own  nature  is  mdiflferent ;  that  it  becomes 
fust  or  unjust,  proceeds  from  the  right  of  the  magistrate.     Le- 
gitimate kings  therefore  make  the  things  they  command  j  ust,  by 
commanding  them,  and  those  which  they  forbid,  unjust,  by  for- 
bidding them.  But  private  men,  while  they  assume  to  themselves 
the  knowledge  of  good  and  evtl,  desire  to  be  even  as  kings; 
which  cannot  be  with  the  safety  of  the  commonweal.     The  most 
ancient  of  all   God's  commands  is,    (Gen.   ii.   17):    TJiou  shalt 
40t  eat  of  the  tree  of  knowledge  of  good  and  evil:  and  the  most 
ancient  of  all  diabolical  temptations,  (Gen.  iii.  5)  :  Ye  shall  be  as 
gods  knowing  good  and  evil;  and  God's  expostulation  with  man. 
(verse  ii)  :   Who  told  thee  that  thou  wert  naked?    Hast  thou 
eaten  of  the  tree,  whereof  I  commanded  thee  that  thou  shouldst 
not  eat?      As  if  he  had  said,  how  comest  thou  to  judge  that 
nakedness,  wherein  it  seemed  good  to  me  to  create  thee,  to  be 
shameful,  except  thou  have  arrogated  to  thyself  the  knowle^ige 
of  good  end  cviV     (M.  11.  196.)     "We  all  measure  good  and 
jvil  by  the  pleasure  or  pain  we  either  feel  at  present,  or  expect 
nereafter."    Also  below  p.    293.    and  Leviathan,  (M.  Ill,  680). 
** Aristotle,  and  other  heathen  philosophers,  define  good  and  evil, 
by  the  appetite  of  men ;  and  well  enough,  as  long  as  we  consider 
ihem  governed  every  one  by  his  own  law;  for  in  the  condition 
of  men  that  have  no  other  law  but  their  own  appetites,  there 
-an  be   10  general  rule  of  good,  and  evil  actions.    But  m  a  com- 
monwealth this   measure   is   false:   not  the  appetite  of  pnvate 
men,  but  the  law^  which  is  the  will  and  appetite  of  the  state,  is 


OF  PASSIONS 


»« 


words,  in  their  proper  places,  signify  nothmg  else  but 
the  mien,  or  countenance,  that  promiseth  good  and  eviL 
So  that  of  good  there  be  three  kinds;  good  in  the 
promise,  that  is  pulchrum;  good  in  effect,  as  the  end 
desired  which  is  called  jucundum,  delightful;  and  good 
as  the  means,  which  is  called  utile,  profitable;  and  as 
many  of  evil:  for  evil  in  promise,  is  that  they  call  turpe; 
evil  in  effect,  and  end,  is  molestum,  unpleasant,  trouble- 
some;  and  evil  in  the  means,  inutile,  unprofitable,  hurt- 
ful 


the  measure     And  yet  is  this  doctrine  still  practiced;  and  men 
udgT^e  goodness  or  wickedness  of  their  own,  and  of  o  her 
men^s  actions;  and  of  the  actions  of  the  commonwealth  itself 
by  their  own  passions;  and  no  man  calleth  good  or  evil,  but  that 
urhirh  is  so  in  his  own  eyes,  without  any  regard  at  all  to  the  pub- 
iTc^aws;  ex?^^^^^^^^     monks,  and  friars,  that^^,^^^-^^^^^^ 
to   that    simple   obedience    to   their    superior,    to    which    every 
Eubi  ect  ouSt  to  think    himself   bound   by   the    law    of  nature 
o  Ihe   chll    sovereign.       And   this   pnvate    measure   of   good 
s  a  doctrine,  not  only  vain,   but  aho  Pemicious  Jo  the  pub 
lie  state"     Also   Human  Nature,    (M.   IV.   32).     ,^.^^7,?^?"' 
for  ht  own  part,  calleth  that  which  pW^/.    and  is^d^^^^^^^^ 
ful  to  himself;  good;  and  that  evil  which  dtspleaseth  him .  m 
somuch    hat  while  every  man  differeth  from  another  in  con^ 
X;t/^hey    differ    alL    from    one    anot^^F    -n^^^^^^^^^ 
common  distinction  of  good  and  evil.    .Nor  is  there  any  sucn 
thing  as  absolute  goodness,  considered  without  'J^^^.^^ '  ^^^g^^'^ 
the   goodness   which   we   apprehend   m    God    Almight)^^  is    n« 
goodness  to  us.      And  as  we  call  good  and  jt;»/  the  itag^  that 
please  and  displease;  so  call  we  goodness  ^nd  badness  th^  qua^ 
ities  or  powers  whereby  they  do  it:  and  ^he  signs  of  that  good- 
ness  are^alled  by  the  Latins  in  one  word  />u/cftnf«^ 
signs  of  evil,  turpitudo:  to  which  we  have  "O  words  precisely 
answerable"      Also    De    Corpore    Politico,    (M     IV' J°9-lii;. 
''Every  n  an  by  natural  passion,  calleth  that  good  which  pleaseth 
him  for  the  present,  or  so  far  forth  as  he  can  foresee    and  m  hke 
manner,  that  which  displeaseth  him,  evil,    ^nd  therefore  he  tha^ 

foreseeth  the  whole  way  to  his  P^.^serva^ion^^  ^t  Lo^^^  aSd 
that  every  one  by  nature  aimeth  at,  must  also  call  it  gooa,  ana 
he^ontrTry  evil  \nd  this  is  that  good  and  evil,  which  not  ev^^^^^ 
man  in  passion  calleth  so,  but. all  men  by  ^^ason  ^An^he^^^^^^^^^ 
the  fulfilling  of  all  these  laws  is  good  m  reason,  ^"^  *^e  brea^^^^^ 
of  them  evil.  And  so  also  the  habit,  or  disposition,  or  mteo^ 
tion  to  fulfill  them  good ;  and  the  neglect  of  them  evil.  And  from 


m 


LEVIATHAN 


As,  in  sense,  that  which  is  really  within  us,  is,  as  I 
have  said  before,  only  motion,  caused  by  the  action  of 
external  objects,  but  in  apparence;  to  the  sight,  light 
and  colour;  to  the  ear,  sound;  to  the  nostril,  odour,  &c. : 
so,  when  the  action  of  the  same  object  is  continued  from 
the  eyes,  ears,  and  other  organs  to  the  heart,  the  real 
effect  there  is  nothing  but  motion,  or  endeavour;  which 
consisteth  in  appetite,  or  aversion,  to  or  from  the  object 
moving.  But  the  apparence,  or  sense  of  that  motion,  is 
that  we  either  call  delight,  or  trouble  of  mind. 


hence  cometh  that  distinction  of  malum  poenae,  and  malum 
culpae ;  for  malum  poenae  is  any  pain  or  molestation  of  the  mind 
whatsoever;  but  malum  culpae  is  that  action  which  is  contrary 
to  reason  and  the  law  of  nature:  as  also  the  habit  of  doing  ac- 
cording to  these  and  other  laws  of  nature,  that  tend  to  our  pres- 
ervation, is  that  we  call  virtue;  and  the  habit  of  doing  the  con- 
trary, vice.  As  for  example,  justice  is  that  habit  by  which  we 
stand  to  covenants,  injustice  the  contrary  vice;  equity  that  habit 
by  which  we  allow  equality  of  nature,  arrogancy  the  contrary  vice ; 
gratitude  the  habit  whereby  we  requite  the  benefit  and  trust  of 
others,  ingratitude  the  contrary  vice;  temperance  the  habit  by 
which  we  abstain  from  all  things  that  tend  to  our  destruction,  in- 
temperance the  contrary  vice;  prudence,  the  same  with  virtue  in 
general.  As  for  the  common  opinion,  that  virtue  consisteth  in 
mediocrity,  and  vice  in  extremes,  I  see  no  ground  for  it,  nor  can 
find  any  such  mediocrity.  Courage  may  be  virtue,  when  the  dar- 
ing is  extreme,  if  the  cause  be  good,  and  extreme  fear  no  vice 
when  the  danger  is  extreme.  To  give  a  man  more  than  his  due, 
is  no  injustice,  though  it  be  to  give  him  less:  and  in  gifts  it  is 
not  the  sum  that  maketh  liberality,  but  the  reason.  And  so  in 
all  other  virtues  and  vices.  I  know  that  this  doctrine  of  medi- 
ocrity is  Aristotle's,  but  his  opinions  concerning  virtue  and  vice, 
are  no  other  than  those,  which  were  received  then,  and  are  still 
by  the  generality  of  men  unstudied,  and  therefore  not  very  likely 
to  be  accurate.  The  sum  of  virtue  is  to  be  sociable  with  them 
that  will  be  sociable,  and  formidable  to  them  that  will  not. 
And  the  same  is  the  sum  of  the  law  of  nature:  for  in  being 
sociable,  the  law  of  nature  taketh  place  by  way  of  peace  and 
society ;  and  to  be  formidable,  is  the  law  of  nature  in  war,  where 
to  be  feared  is  a  protection  a  man  hath  from  his  own  power: 
and  as  the  former  consisteth  in  actions  of  equity  and  justice,  the 
latter  consisteth  in  actions  of  honour.  And  equity,  justice, 
and  honour,  contain  all  virtues  whatsoever."  Also  Questions 
Concerning   Liberty,    (M.    V,    192).     "There    hath    been    in   the 


OF  PASSIONS 


IS* 


This  motion,  which  is  called  appetite,  and  for  the  ap- 
parence  of  it  delight,  and  pleasure,  seemeth  to  be  a  cor- 
roboration of  vital  motion,  and  a  help  thereunto;  and 
therefore  such  things  as  caused  delight,  were  not  im- 
properly called  jucunda,  a  juvando,  from  helping  or  forti- 
fying; and  the  contrary,  molesta,  offensive,  from  hin- 
dering,  and  troubling  the  motion  vital. 

I  Pleasure  therefore,  or  delight,  is  the  apparence,  or 
sense  of  good ;  and  molestation,  or  displeasure,  the  ap- 
parence, or  sense  of  evil.    And  consequently  all  appetite, 


School^   derived  from  Aristotle's  Metaphysics,  an  old  proverb 
father   than    an   axiom:     ens,   bonum.   et   verum    convertuntur. 
From  hence  the  Bishop  hath  taken  this  notion  of  a  metaphys- 
^al  goodness,  and   his  doctrine  that  whatsoever  hath  a  bgng 
fegood;  and  by  this  interpreteth  the  words  of  Gen.  1.  31  •  CxOd 
sal  al   that  hi  had  made  and  it  was  very  good.    But  the  rea- 
son of  those  words  is,  that  good  is  relative  to  those  that  are 
oleased   with   it,  and  not  of  absolute  signification  to  all  men. 
Sod  ther^  ore  saith,  that  all  that  he  had  made  was  very  good, 
because  he  was  pleased  with  the  creatures  of  his  own  making 
But  H  all  things  were  absolutely  good,  we  should  be  all  pleased 
w"th  thdr  being,  which  we  are  not,  when  the  actions  that  de- 
oend  uoon  their  being   are  hurtful  to  us.     And  therefore,  to 
soe^k  orooerly    nothing  is  good  or  evil  but  in  regard  of  the 
a?tTon  ?ha?  p^ceedeth  from  it,  and  also  of  the  person  to  whom 
ft  doth  good  or  hurt     Satan  is  evil  to  us,  because  he  seeketh 
our  destruction,  but  good  to  God  because  he  «ecuteth  his  com- 
mandments.     And  so  his  metaphysical  goodness  is  but  an  idle 
term,  and  not  the  member  of  a  distinction.     And  as  for  nat- 
ural goodness  and  evilness,  that  also  is  but  the  goodness  and 
cvilness  of  actions ;  as  some  herbs  are  good  because  they  nourish, 
others  evil  because  they  poison  us ;  and  one  horse  is  food  because 
he  is  gentle,  strong,  and  carneth  a  man  easily;  another  bad 
because  he  r^sisteth,  goeth  hard,  or  otherwise  displeaseth  us;  and 
that  quality  of  gentleness,  if  there  were  no  more  laws  amongst 
men  than  there  is  amongst  beasts,  would  he  as  much  a  moral 
good  in  a  horse  or  other  beast  as  in  a  man.    It  is  the  law  from 
whence  proceeds  the  difference  between  the  moral  and  the  na^ura 
goodness :  so  that  it  is  well  enough   said^  by  ,hmi,  that   moral 
goodness  is  the  conformity  of  an  action  with  ngjt  reason  .  ana 
better  said  than  meant ;  for  this  right  reason,  which  is  the  law. 
is  no  otherwise  certainly  right  than  by  our  makmg  it  so  by  our 
approbation  of  it  and  voluntary  subjection  to  it.    For  the  law- 
makers are  men.  and  may  err,  and  think  that  law,  which  they 


tS^ 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  PASSIONS 


IS3 


desire,  and  love,  is  accompanied  with  some  delight  more 
or  less ;  and  all  hatred  and  aversion,  with  more  or  less 
displeasure  and  offence. 

Of  pleasures  or  delights,  some  arise  from  the  sense 
of  an  object  present ;  and  those  may  be  called  pleasure 
of  sense;  the  word  sensual,  as  it  is  used  by  those  only 
that  condemn  them,  having  no  place  till  there  be  laws. 
Of  this  kind  are  all  onerations  and  exonerations  of  the 
body ;  as  also  all  that  is  pleasant,  in  the  sight,  hearing, 
smell,  taste,  or  touch.     Others  arise  from  the  expecta- 


make    is  for  the  good  of  the  people  sometimes  when  it  is  not. 
And  yi     he  actions  of  subjects,  if  they  be  conformable  to  the 
Sw    are  morally  good,  and  yet  cease  not  to  be  naturally  good 
«,d' the  pTaise  of  them  passeth  to  the  Author  of  nature,  as  w^ 
^  of  any  other  good  whatsover.     From  whence  it  appears  that 
moml  pr^aise  is  not,  as  he  says,  from  the  good  use  of  liberty 
but  from  obedience  to  the  laws ;  nor  moral  dispraise  from  the 
bad  use  of  liberty,  but  from  disobedience  to  the  laws      And  for 
hfs  consequence,  If  all  things  be  necessary,  then  moral  liberty  is 
quite  taken  away,  and  with  it  all  true  praise  and  dispraise    the  ^ 
is  neither  truth  in  it,  nor  argument  offered  for  it;  for  there  is 
nothine  more  necessary  than  the  consequence  of  voluntary  ac- 
tTons  tl  the  ^,7/.    And 'whereas  I  had  said   thatto  say  a  t^^^^^^^^ 
rood   is  to  say  it  is  as  I  or  another  would  wish,  or  as  the  state 
a  have  itf  or  according  to  the  law  of  the  land,  he  answers 
that  •!  mistake  infinitely.'     And  his  reason  is,  because    we  often 
wish  what  is  profitable  or  delightful,  without,  regarding  as  we 
ought  what  is  honest.'     There  is  no  man  hying  that  seeth  all 
the  consequences  of  an  action  from  the  beginning  to  the  end, 
whereby  to  weigh  the  whole  sum  of  the  good  with  the  whole 
Turn  of  the  evil  consequence.    We  choose  "/>  .^ "^^^^ J^^^'^/"  7^/^" 
weigh.     That  is  good  to  every  man,  which  is  so  far  good  as  ne 
Tn  see.     All  the%eal  good,  which  we  call  honest  and  morally 
virtuous,   is  that  which   is   not   repugnant  to  the  law    evil   or 
natural;  for  the  law  is  all  the  right  reason  we  have,  and  (though 
he    as  often  as   it  disagreeth   with   his   own   reason,   deny  it), 
is  the  infallible  rule  of  moral  goodness.     The  reason  whereof 
is  this,  that     because  neither  mine  nor  the  Bishop  s  reason  is 
right  reason  fit  to  be  a  rule  of  our  moral  actions,  we  have  there- 
fore set  up  over  ourselves  a  sovereign  governor,  and  agreed  that 
his  laws  shall  be  unto  us,  whatsoever  they  be    in  the  P^ ace  of 
right  reason,  to  dictate  to  us  what  is  really  good.     In  the  same 
manner  as  men  in  playing  turn  up  trump,  and  as  in  playing  their 
game   their   morality    consisteth    in    not    renouncing,    so    in    our 


tion,  that  proceeds  from  foresight  of  the  end,  or  conse- 
quence of  things ;  whether  those  things  in  the  sense  please 
»or  displease.  And  these  are  pleasures  of  the  mind  of  him 
that  draweth  those  consequences,  and  are  generally  called 
JOY  In  the  like  manner,  displeasures  are  some  in  the 
"^Sise,  and  railed  ^AiN ;  others  in  the  expectation  of  con- 
sequences, and  are  called  (aiFB^* 

These  simple  passions  called  appetite,  desire,  love, 
aversion,  hate,  joy,  and  grief,  have  their  names  for  divers 
considerations  diversified.  As  first,  when  they  one  suc- 
ceed another,  they  are  diversely  called  from  the  opinion 


civil  conversation  our  morality  is  all  contained  in  not  disobeying 

""^'CompZt  Elements  of  Philosophy,  (M.  I,  406).   /'But  there 
is  another  kind  of  sense,  of  which  I  will  say  something  in  this 
place,  namely,  the  sense  of  pleasure  and  pain,  proceeding  not 
from  the  reaction   of  the   heart   outwards,   but   from   continual 
action  from  the  outermost  part  of  the  organ  towards  the  heart. 
For  the  original  of  life  being  in  the  heart,  that  motion  in  the 
sentient,  which  is  propagated  to  the  heart,  must  necessarily  make 
some  alteration  or  diversion  of  vital  motion,  namely,  by  quick- 
ening or  slackening,  helping  or  hindering  the  same.     Now  when 
it  helpeth,  it  is  pleasure ;  and  when  it  hindereth,  it  is  pain,  trou- 
ble grief   &c    And  as  phantasms  seem  to  be  without,  by  reason 
of  the  endeavour  outwards,  so  pleasure  and  pain,  by  reason  of 
the  endeavour  of  the  organ  inwards,  seem  to  be  within ;  namely. 
there  where  the  first  cause  of  the  pleasure  or  pain  is ;  as  when 
the  pain  proceeds  from  a  wound,   we  think  the  pain  and  the 
wound  are  both  in  the  same  place."  Also  Human  Nature    (M. 
IV,  31).    "Conceptions  and  apparitions   are   nothing   really,   put 
motion  in  some  internal  substance  of  the  head;  which  motion 
not  stopping  there,   but   proceeding   to   tht  heart    oi  necessity 
must   there  either   hslp   or   hinder  the  motion   which   is   called 
vital:  when  it  helpeth,   it   is    called    delight,    contentment,    or 
pleasure,  which  is  nothing  really  but  motion   about  the  heart, 
as  conception  is  nothing  but  motion  in  the  head :  and  the  objects 
that  cause  it  are  called  pleasant  or  delightful,  or  by  some  name 
equivalent;  the  Latins  have  jucundum,  a  juvando,  from  helping; 
and  the  same  delight,  with  reference  to  the  object,  is  called  love. 
but  when  such  motion  weakeneth  or  hindereth  the  vital  motion, 
then  it  is  called  pain;  and  in  relation  to  that  which  causeth  it. 
hatred,  which  the  Latins  express  sometimes  by  odium,  and  some- 
times by  taedium" 


154 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  PASSIONS 


155 


men  have  of  the  likelihood  of  attaining  what  they  desire. 
Secondly,  from  the  object  loved  or  hated.  Thirdly, from 
the  consideration  of  many  of  them  together.  Fourthly, 
from  the  alteration  or  succession  itself- 

For  appetite,  with  an  opinion  of  attaining,  is  called 

HOPE. 

The  same,  without  such  opinion,  despair. 
Aversion,  with  opinion   of   hurt   from   the   object, 

FEAR. 

The  same,  with  hope  of  avoiding  that  hurt  by  resis- 
tance, COURAGE. 

Sudden  courage,  anger. 

Constant  hope,  confidence  of  ourselves. 

Constant  despair,  diffidence  of  ourselves. 

Anger  for  great  hurt  done  to  another,  when  we  con- 
ceive the  same  to  be  done  by  injury,  indignation. 

Desire  of  good  to  another,  benevolence,  good  will, 
charity.    If  to  man  generally,  good  naiure. 

Desire  of  riches,  covetousness  ;  a  name  used  always 
in  signification  of  blame;  because  men  contending  for 
them,  are  displeased  with  one  another  attaining  them; 
though  the  desire  in  itself,  be  to  be  blamed,  or  allowed, 
according  to  the  means  by  which  these  riches  are  sought. 

Desire  of  office,  or  precedence,  ambition:  a  name 
used  also  in  the  worse  sense,  for  the  reason  before  men- 
tioned. 

Desire  of  things  that  conduce  but  a  little  to  our  ends, 
and  fear  of  things  that  are  but  of  little  hindrance,  pus- 
illanimity. 

Contempt  oiWiXl^  helps  and  hindrances,  magnanim- 
ity. 

Magnanimity,  in  danger  of  death  or  wounds,  valour, 

fortitude- 

Magnanimity  in  the  use  of  riches,  liberality. 


I 


Pusillanimity  in  the  same,  wretchedness,  misera- 
bleness,  or  parsimony  ;  as  it  is  liked  or  disliked. 
Love  of  persons  for  society,  kindness. 

/Love  of  persons  for  pleasing  the  sense  only,  natural 
LUST. 

Love   of   the   same,    acquired  from  rumination,  that 
is,  imagination  of  pleasure  past,  luxury. 
r     Love  of  one  singularly,  with  desire  to  be  singularly 
Ibeloved,  the  passion  of  love.     The  same,  with  fear 
^that  the  love  is  not  mutual,  jealousy. 

Desire,  by  doing  hurt  to  another,  to  make  him  con- 
demn some  fact  of  his  own,  revengefulness. 

Desire  to  know  why,  and  how,  curiosity  ;  such  as  is  in 
no  living  creature  but  man:  so  that  man  is  distinguished, 
not  only  by  his  reason,  but  also  by  this  singular  passion 
from  other  animals;  in  whom  the  appetite  of  food,  and 
other  pleasures  of  sense,  by  predominance,  t^ke  away 
the  care  of  knowing  causes ;  which  is  a  lust  of  the  mind, 
that  by  a  perseverance  of  delight  in  the  continual  and 
indefatigable  generation  of  knowledge,  exceedeth  the 
short  vehemence  of  any  carnal  pleasure. 

Fear  of  power  invisible,  feigned  by  the  mind,  or  im- 
agined from  tales  publicly  allowed,  religion;  not  al- 
lowed, superstition.  And  when  the  power  imagined, 
is  truly  such  as  we  imagine,  true  religion. 

Fear,  without  the  apprehension  of  why,  or  what, 
panic  terror^  called  so  from  the  fables,  that  make  Pan 
the  author  of  them;  whereas,  in  truth,  there  is  always 
in  him  that  so  feareth,  first,  some  apprehension  of  the 
cause,  though  the  rest  run  away  by  example,  every  one 
supposing  his  fellow  to  know  why.  And  therefore  this 
passion  happens  to  none  but  in  a  throng,  or  multitude 
of  people. 

Joy,  from  apprehension    of     novelty,     admiration; 


156 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  PASSIONS 


157 


proper  to  man,  because  it  excites  the  appetite  of  knowing 

the  cause*  , 

Joy.  arising  from  imagination  of  a  man  s  own  power 
and  ability,   is  that  exultation  of  the  mind  which   is 
called  glorying:  which  if  grounded  upon  the  ex^nence 
of  his  own  former  actions,  is  the  same  with  conUence. 
but  if  grounded  on  the  flattery  of  others;  or  only  sup- 
posed by  himself,  for  delight  in  the  consequences  of  it, 
is  called  vain-glory:  which  name  is  properly  given; 
because  a  well  grounded  conMence  begetteth  attempt ; 
whereas  the  supposing  of  power  does  not,  and  is  there- 
fore rightly  called  vain.  „   .    „ 
Grief,  from  opinion  of  want  of  power,  is  called  de- 
tection of  mind.                                .      .      ,  •     • 

The  vain-glorv  which  consisteth  m  the  feignmg  or 
supposing  of  abilities  in  ourselves,  which  we  know 
are  not,  is  most  incident  to  young  men,  and  nourished 
by  the  histories,  or  fictions  of  gallant  persons;  and  is 
corrected  oftentimes  by  age,  and  employment 

Sudden  glory,  is  the  passion  which  maketh  those 
srimaces  called  laughter;  and  is  caused  either  by  some 
sudden  act  of  their  own,  that  pleaseth  them;  or  by  the 
apprehension  of  some  deformed  thing  in  another,  by  com- 
parison whereof  they  suddenly  applaud  themselves.  And 
it  is  incident  most  to  them,  that  are  conscious  of  the 
fewest  abilities  in  themselves ;  who  are  forced  to  keep 
themselves  in  their  own  favour,  by  observing  the  im- 
perfections of  other  men.  And  therefore  much  laughter 
at  the  defects  of  others,  is  a  sign  of  pusillanimity  For 
of  great  minds,  one  of  the  proper  works  is,  to  help  and 
free  others  from  scorn;  and  compare  themselves  only 

with  the  most  able.  •      .u  * 

On  the  contrary,  sudden  dejection,  is  the  passion  that 

causeth  WEEPING ;  and  is  caused  by  such  accidents,  as 


i 


n 


>•  J 


suddenly  take  away  some  vehement  hope,  or  some  prop 
of  their  power :  and  they  are  most  subject  to  it,  that  rely 
principally  on  helps  external,  such  as  are  women,  and 
children.  Therefore  some  weep  for  the  loss  of  friends; 
others  for  their  unkindness;  others  for  the  sudden  stop 
made  to  their  thoughts  of  revenge,  by  reconciliation. 
But  in  all  cases,  both  laughter,  and  weeping,  are  sud- 
den motions;  custom  taking  them  both  away.  For  no 
man  laughs  at  old  jests;  or  weeps  for  an  old  calamity. 
Grief,  for  the  discovery  of  some  defect  of  ability,  is 
SHAME,  or  the  passion  that  discovereth  itself  in  blush- 
ing; and  consisteth  in  the  apprehension  of  some  thing 
dishonourable ;  and  in  young  men,  is  a  sign  of  the  love 
of  good  reputation,  and  commendable;  in  old  men  it  is 
a  sign  of  the  same;  but  because  it  comes  too  late,  not 
commendable. 

The  contempt  of  good  reputation  is  called  impu- 
dence. 

Grief,  for  the  calamity  of  another,  is  pity  ;  and  aris- 
eth  from  the  imagination  that  the  like  calamity  may  befall 
himself;  and  therefore  is  called  also  compassion,  and 
in  the  phrase  of  this  present  time  a  fellow.-feeling  : 
and  therefore  for  calamity  arriving  from  great  wicked- 
ness, the  best  men  have  the  least  pity ;  and  for  the  same 
calamity  those  hate  pity,  that  think  themselves  least 
obnoxious  to  the  same. 

Contempt,  or  little  sense  of  the  calamity  of  others,  is 
that  which  men  call  cruelty  ;  proceeding  from  security 
of  their  own  fortune.  For,  that  any  man  should  take 
pleasure  in  other  men's  great  harms ;  without  other  end  of 
his  own,  I  do  not  conceive  it  possible. 

Grief,  for  the  success  of  a  competitor  in  wealthy 
honour,  or  other  good,  if  it  be  joined  with  endeavour  to 
enforce   our   own   abilities   to  equal   or   exceed   him,   is 


158 


LEVIATHAN 


called  emulation:  but  joined  with  endeavour  to  sup- 
plant, or  hinder  a  competitor,  envy. 

When  in  the  mind  of  man,  appetites,  and  aversions, 
hopes,  and  fears,  concerning  one  and  the  same  thing, 
arise  alternately ;  and  divers  good  and  evil  consequences 
of  the  doing,  or  omitting  the  thing  propounded,  come 
successively  into  our  thoughts;  so  that  sometimes  we 
have  an  appetite  to  it;  sometimes  an  aversion  from  it; 
sometimes  hope  to  be  able  to  do  it ;  sometimes  despair, 
or  fear  to  attempt  it ;  the  whole  sum  of  desires,  aver- 
sions, hopes  and  fears  continued  till  the  thing  be  either 
done,  or  thought  impossible,  is  that  we  call  delibera- 
tion. 

Therefore  ofthings  past,  there  is  no  deliberation;  be- 
cause manifestly  impossible  to  be  changed :  nor  of  things 
known  to  be  impossible,  or  thought  so;  because  men 
know,  or  think  such  deliberation  vain.  But  of  things 
impossible,  which  we  think  possible,  we  may  deliberate; 
not  knowing  it  is  in  vain.  And  it  is  called  deliberation; 
because  it  is  a  putting  an  end  to  the  /tderty  we  had  of  do- 
ing, or  omitting,  according  to  our  own  appetite,  or  aver- 
sion. 

This  alternate  succession  of  appetites,  aversions, 
hopes  and  fears,  is  no  less  in  other  living  creatures  than 
in  man :  and  therefore  beasts  also  deliberate. 

Every  deliberation  is  then   said   to   end,   when  that 
whereof  they  deliberate,  is  either  done,  or  thought  im- 
possible ;  because  till  then  we  retain  the  liberty  of  doing, 
or  omitting;  according  to  our  appetite,  or  aversion. 
I       In    deliberation,  the  last  appetite,   or  aversion,  im- 
/  mediately  adhering  to    the    action,   or   to  the  omission 
I  thereof,  is  that  we  call  the  will  ;  the  act,  not  the  faculty, 
of  willing.    And  beasts  that  have  deliberation,  must  nec- 
essarily also  have  will    The  definition  of  the  will,  given 


OF  PASSIONS 


159 


commonly  by  the  Schools,  that  it  is  a  rational  appetite, 
is  not  good.  For  if  it  were,  then  could  there  be  no  vol- 
untary act  against  reason.  For  a  voluntary  act  is  that, 
which  proceedeth  from  the  will,  and  no  other.  But  if 
instead  of  a  rational  appetite,  we  shall  say  an  appetite 
resulting  from  a  precedent  deliberation,  then  the  defini- 
tion is  the  same  that  I  have  given  here.  Will,  therefore, 
is  the  last  appetite  in  deliberating;.  And  though  we  say 
in  common  discourse,  a  man  had  a  will  once  to  do  a 
thing,  that  nevertheless  he  forbore  to  do;  yet  that  is 
properlv  but  an  inclination,  which  makes  no  action  vol- 
untary ;  because  the  action  depends  not  of  it,  but  of  the 
last  inclination,  or  appetite.  For  if  the  intervenient  ap- 
petites, make  any  action  voluntary;  then  by  the  same 
reason  all  intervenient  aversions,  should  make  the  same 
action  involuntary;  and  so  one  and  the  same  action, 
should  be  both  voluntary  and  involuntary. 

By  this  it  is  manifest,  that  not  only  actions  that  have 
their  beginning  from  covetousness,  ambition,  lust,  or 
other  appetites  to  the  thing  propounded ;  but  also  those 
that  have  their  beginning  from  aversion,  or  fear  of  those 
consequences  that  follow  the  omission,  are  voluntary 
actions.^ 


Compare  Elements  of  Philosophy,  (M.  I,  408).  "The  con- 
siderations of  appetites  and  aversions  arc  divers.  For  seeing 
living  creatures  have  sometimes  appetite  and  sometimes  aver- 
sion to  the  same  thing,  as  they  think  it  will  either  be  for  their 
good  or  their  hurt ;  while  that  vicissitude  of  appetites  and  aver- 
sions remains  in  them,  they  have  that  series  of  thoughts  which 
is  called  deliberation;  which  lasteth  as  long  as  they  have  it  in 
their  power  to  obtain  that  which  pleaseth,  or  to  avoid  that  which 
displeaseth  them.  Appetite,  therefore,  and  aversion  are  simply 
so  called  as  long  as  they  follow  not  deliberation.  But  if  deliber- 
.^t^o"  have  gone  before,  then  the  last  act  of  it,  if  it  be  appetite, 
is  called  will;  if  aversion,  unzvillingness.  So  that  the  same  thing 
is  called  both  will  and  appetite ;  but  the  consideration  of  them, 
namely,  before  and  after  deliberation,  is  divers.  Nor  is  that 
which  is  done  within  a  man  whilst  he  willeth  any  thing   differ- 


w6o 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  PASSIONS 


i6i 


The  forms  of  speech  by  which  the  passions  are  ex« 
pressed,  are  partly  the  same,  and  partly  different  from 
those,  by  which  we  express  our  thoughts.  And  first, 
generally  all  passions  may  be  expressed  indicatively; 
as  /  love,  I  fear,  I  joy,  I  deliberate,  I  will,  I  command: 
but  some  of  them  have  particular  expressions  by  them- 
selves, which  nevertheless  are  not  affirmations,  unless  it  be 
when  they  serve  to  make  other  inferences,  besides  that  of 
the  passion  they  proceed  from.  Deliberation  is  expressed 
siihjimctively ,  which  is  a  speech  proper  to  signify  suppo- 
sitions, with  their  consequences;  as,  if  this  be  dofie,  then 


ent  from  that  which  is  done  in  other  living  creatures,  whilst, 
deliberation  having  preceded,  they  have  appetite.  Neither  is  the 
freedom  of  willing  or  not  willing,  greater  in  man.  than  in  other 
living  creatures.  For  where  there  is  appetite,  the  entire  cause  of 
appetite  hath  preceded ;  and,  consequently,  the  act  of  appetite 
could  not  choose  but  follow,  that  is,  hath  of  necessity  followed. 
And  therefore  such  a  liberty  as  is  free  from  necessity,  is  not  to  be 
found  in  the  will  either  of  men  or  beasts.  But  if  by  hbcrty 
we  understand  the  faculty  or  power,  not  of  willing,  but  of  do- 
ing what  they  will,  then  certainly  that  liberty  is  to  be  allowed 
to  both,  and  both  may  equally  have  it,  whensoever  it  is  to  be 
had."  Also  below  p.  255,  and  Uviathan,  (M.  Ill,  360).  '  Sense, 
memory,  understanding,  reason,  and  opinion  are  not  in  our  power 
to  change ;  but  always,  and  necessarily  such,  as  the  things  we  see. 
hear,  and  consider  suggest  unto  us ;  and  therefore  are  not  effects 
of  our  will,  but  our  will  of  them."  Also  Human  Nature,  (M. 
IV,  67).  "It  hath  been  declared  already,  how  external  objects 
cause  conceptions,  and  conceptions,  appetite  and  fear,  which  are 
the  first  unperceived  beginnings  of  our  actions:  for  either  the 
actions  immediately  follow  the  first  appetite,  as  when  we  do 
anything  upon  a  sudden ;  or  else  to  our  first  appetite  there  suc- 
ceedeth  some  conception  of  evil  to  happen  to  us  by  such  actions, 
which  is  fear,  and  which  holdeth  us  from  proceeding.  And  to 
that  fear  may  succeed  a  new  appetite,  and  to  that  appetite  an- 
other fear  alternately,  till  the  action  be  either  done,  or  some 
accident  come  between,  to  make  it  impossible;  and  so  this 
alternate  appetite  and  fear  ceaseth.  This  alternate  succession  of 
appetite  and  fear  during  all  the  time  the  action  is  in  our  power  to 
do  or  not  'o  do,  is  that  we  call  deliberation;  which  name  hath 
been  given  .t  for  that  part  of  the  definition  wherein  it  is  said 
that  it  lasteth  so  long  as  the  action,  whereof  we  deliberate,  is 
in  our  power:  for,  so  long  we  have  liberty  to  do  or  not  to 
do;  and  deliberation  signifieth  a  taking  away  of  our  own  liberty. 


i 


this  will  follow;  and  differs  not  from  the  language  of 
reasoning,  save  that  reasoning  is  in  general  words;  but 
deliberation  for  the  most  part  is  of  particulars.  The 
language  of  desire,  and  aversion,  is  imperative;  as  do 
this,  forbear  that;  which  when  ithe  party  is  obliged  to  do, 
or  forbear,  is  command;  otherwise  prayer;  or  else 
counsel.  The  language  of  vain-glory,  of  indignation, 
pity  and  revengefulness,  optative:  but  of  the  desire  to 
know,  there  is  a  peculiar  expression,  called  interroga- 
tive; as, what  is  it,  when  shall  it,  how  is  it  done,  and  why 
so?    other  language  of  the  passions  I  find  none :  for  curs- 


Deliberation  therefore  requireth  in  the  action  deliberated  two  con- 
ditions; one,  that  it  be  future;  the  other,  that  there  be  hope  of 
doing  it,  or  possibility  of  not  doing  it;  for,  appetite  and  fear 
arc  expectations  of  the  future;  and  there  is  no  expectation  of 
good,  without  hope;  or  of  evil,  without  possibility:  of  neces- 
fpries  therefore  there  is  no  deliberation.  In  deliberation,  the 
last  appetite,  as  also  the  last  fear,  is  called  will.  viz.  the  last  ap- 
petite, will  to  do,  or  will  to  omit.  It  is  all  one  therefore  to  say 
will  and  last  will:  for,  though  a  man  express  his  present  inclin- 
ation and  appetite  concerning  the  disposing  of  his  goods,  by 
words  or  writings ;  yet  shall  it  not  be  counted  his  will,  because 
he  hath  still  liberty  to  dispose  of  them  otherways:  but  when 
death  taketh  away  that  liberty,  then  it  is  his  will.  Voluntary 
actions  and  omissions  are  such  as  have  beginning  in  the  Tvill; 
all  other  are  involuntary,  or  mixed  voluntary;  involuntary,  such 
as  he  doth  by  necessity  of  nature,  as  when  he  is  pushed,  or  fal- 
leth,  and  thereby  doth  good  or  hurt  to  another:  mixed,  such  as 
participate  of  both ;  as  when  a  man  is  carried  to  prison,  going  is 
voluntary,  to  the  prison,  is  involuntary:  the  example  of  him 
that  throweth  his  goods  out  of  a  ship  into  the  sea,  to  save  his 
person,  is  of  an  action  altogether  voluntary:  for,  there  is  noth- 
ing therein  involuntary,  but  the  hardness  of  the  choice,  which 
is  not  his  action,  but  the  action  of  the  winds:  what  he  himself 
doth,  is  no  more  against  his  will,  than  to  flee  from  danger  is 
against  the  will  of  him  that  seeth  no  other  means  to  preserve 
himself.  Voluntary  also  are  the  actions  that  proceed  from 
sudden  anger,  or  other  sudden  appetite  in  such  men  as  can  dis- 
cern good  or  evil :  for,  in  them  the  time  precedent  is  to  be 
judged  deliberation:  for  then  also  he  deliberateth  in  what 
cases  it  is  good  to  strike,  deride,  or  do  any  other  action  proceed- 
ing from  anger  or  other  such  sudden  passion.  Appetite,  fear, 
hope,  and  the  rest  of  the  passions  are  not  called  voluntary; 
for  they  proceed  not  from,  but  are  the  will;  and  the  will  is  not 


l62 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  PASSIONS 


163 


ing,  swearing,  reviling,  and  the  like,  do  not  signify  as 
speech ;  but  as  the  actions  of  a  tongue  accustomed. 

These  forms  of  speech,  I  say,  are  expressions,  or 
voluntary  significations  of  our  passions:  but  certain 
signs  they  be  not;  because  they  may  be  used  arbitrarily, 
whether  they  that  use  them,  have  such  passions  or  not. 
The  best  signs  of  passions  present,  are  either  in  the 
countenance,  motions  of  ihe  body,  actions,  and  ends, 
or  aims,  which  we  otherwise  know  the  man  to  have. 

And  because  in  deliberation,  the  appetites,  and  aver- 
sions, are  raised  by  foresight  of  the  good  and  evil  con- 


voluntary:  for,  a  man  can  no  more  say  he  will  will,  than  he 
will  will  will,  and  so  make  an  infinite  repetition  of  the  word 
[will] ;  which  is  absurd,  and  insignificant.  Forasmuch  as  will  to 
do  is  appetite,  and  will  to  omit,  fear;  the  cause  of  appetite  and 
fear  is  the  cause  also  of  our  will:  but  the  propounding  of  the 
benefits  and  of  harms,  that  is  to  say,  of  reward  and  punishment, 
•s  the  cause  of  our  appetite,  and  of  our  fears,  and  therefore 
also  of  our  wills,  so  far  forth  as  we  believe  that  such  rewards 
and  benefits  as  are  propounded,  shall  arrive  unto  us;  and  conse- 
quently, our  wills  follow  our  opinions,  as  our  actions  follow 
our  wills;  in  which  sense  they  say  truly,  and  properly,  that 
say  the  world  is  governed  by  opinion.  When  the  wills  of 
many  concur  to  one  and  the  same  action  and  effect,  this  con- 
course of  their  wills  is  called  consent;  by  which  we  must  not 
understand  one  will  of  many  men,  for  every  man  hath  his  sever- 
al will,  but  many  wills  to  the  producing  of  one  effect :  but  when 
the  zvills  of  two  divers  men  produce  such  actions  as  are  recip- 
rocally resistant  one  to  the  other,  this  is  called  contention;  and,, 
being  upon  the  persons  one  of  another,  battle:  whereas  actions 
proceeding  from  consent,  are  mutual  aid.  When  many  wills  are 
involved  or  included  in  the  will  of  one  or  more  consenting, 
(which  how  it  may  be,  shall  be  hereafter  declared)  then  is  that 
involving  of  many  wills  in  one  or  more,  called  union.  In  delib- 
erations interrupted,  as  they  may  be  by  diversion  of  other  busi- 
ness, or  by  sleep,  the  last  appetite  of  such  part  of  the  deliber- 
ation is  called  intention,  or  purpose."  Also  Human  Nature, 
(M.  IV.,  240).  "He  is  free  to  do  a  thing,  that  may  do  it  if  he 
have  the  will  to  do  it,  and  may  forbear,  if  he  have  the  will 
to  forbear.  And  yet  if  there  be  a  necessity  that  he  shall  have  the 
wtU  to  do  it,  the  action  is  necessarily  to  follow :  and  if  there 
be  a  necessity  that  he  shall  have  the  zvill  to  forbear,  the  forbear- 
ing  also    will    be    necessary.      The    question    therefore    is    not, 


sequences,  and  sequels  of  the  action  whereof  we  delib- 
erate; the  good  or  evil  effect  thereof  dependeth  on  the 
foresight  of  a  long  chain  of  consequences,  of  which  very 
seldom  any  man  is  able  to  see  the  end.  But  for  so  far 
as  a  man  seeth,  if  the  good  in  those  consequences  be 
greater  than  the  evil,  the  whole  chain  is  that  which 
writers  call  apparent,  or  seeming  good.  And  contrarily, 
when  the  evil  exceedeth  the  good,  the  whole  is  appar- 
ent, or  seeming  evil:  so  that  he  who  hath  by  experience, 
or  reason,  the  greatest  and  surest  prospect  of  conse- 

whether  a  man  be  a  free  agent,  that  is  to  say,  whether  he  can 
write  or  forbear,  speak  or  be  silent,  according  to  his  will;  but, 
whether  the  zvill  to  write,  and  the  will  to  forbear,  come  upon  him 
according  to  his  will,  or  according  to  anything  else  in  his  own 
power.    I  acknowledge  this  liberty,  that  I  can  do  it  if  I  will;  but 
to  say,  I  can  will  if  I  will,  I  take  to  be  an  absurd  speech."    Com- 
pare also  Leviathan,  (M.  Ill,  196),  "Liberty,  or  freedom,  sig- 
nifieth,  properly,  the  absence  of  opposition;  by     opposition,     I 
mean  external  impediments  of  motion;   and  may     be     applied 
no  less  to  irrational,  and  inanimate  creatures,  than  to  rational. 
For  whatsoever  is  so  tied,  or  environed,  as  it  cannot  move  but 
within  a  certain  space,   which  space  is  determined  by  the  ex- 
position of  some  external  body,  we  say  it  hath  not  liberty  to  go 
further.     And  so  of  all  living  creatures,  whilst  they  are  impris- 
oned, or  restrained,  with  walls,  or  chains;  and  of  the     water 
whilst  it  is  kept  in  by  banks,  or  vessels,  that  otherwise  would 
spread  itself  into  a  larger  space,  we  use  to  say,  they  are  not  at 
liberty,  to  move  in  such  manner,  as  without  those  external  im- 
pediments they  would.     But  when  the  impediment  of  motion,  is 
in  the  constitution  of  the  thing  itself,  we  use  not  to  say ;  it  wants 
the  liberty;  but  the  power  to  move;  as  when  a  stone  lieth  still, 
or  a  man  is  fastened  to  his  bed  by  sickness.     And  according  to 
this   proper,    and    generally    received    meaning   of   the    word,   a 
FREEMAN,   is  he,   that  in   those   things,   which   by   his   strength 
and  wit  he  is  able  to  do,  is  not  hindered  to  do  what  he  has  a 
will  to.       But  when  the  words  free,  and  liberty,  are  applied  to 
anything  but  bodies,  they  are  abused ;  for  that  which  is  not  sub- 
ject  to   motion,   is   not    subject   to   impediment:    and   therefore, 
when  it  is  said,  for  example,  the  way  is  free,  no  liberty  of  the 
way  is  signified,  but  of  those  that  walk  in  it  without  stop.    And 
when  we  say  a  gift  is  free,  there  is  not  meant  any  liberty  of  the 
gift,  but  of  the  giver,  that  was  not  bound  by  any  law  or  cove- 
nant to  give  it.     So  when  we  speak  freely,  it  is  not  the  liberty 
of  voice,  or  pronounciation,  but  of     the  man,     whom     no  law 


\ 


l64 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  PASSIONS 


165 


quences,  deliberates  best  himself;  and  is  able  when  he 
will,  to  give  the  best  counsel  unto  others. 

Continual  success  in  obtaining  those  things  which 
a  man  from  time  to  time  desireth,  that  is  to  say,  contin- 
ual prospering,  is  that  men  call  felicity;  I  mean  the 
felicity  of  this  life.  For  there  is  no  such  thing  as  per- 
jpetual  tranquility  of  mind,  while  we  live  here;  because 
^^cM^*  llife  itself  is  but  motion,  and  can  never  be  without  desire, 
Inor  without  fear,  no  more  than  without  sense.  What 
kind  of  felicity  God  hath  ordained  to  them  that  devout- 
ly honour  Him,  a  man  shall  no  sooner  know,  than  en- 
joy; being  joys,  that  now  are  as  incomprehensible,  as 
the  word  of  school-men  beatifical  vision  is  unintelligible. 

The  form  of  speech  whereby  men  signify  their  opin- 
ion of  the  goodness  of  anything,  is  praise.    That  where- 

hath  obliged  to  speak  otherwise  than  he  did.  Lastly,  from  the 
use  of  the  word  free-will,  no  liberty  can  be  inferred  of  the  will, 
desire,  or  inclination,  but  the  liberty  of  the  man;  which  con- 
sisteth  in  this,  that  he  finds  no  stop,  in  doing  what  he  has  the 
will,  desire,  or  inclination  to  do.  ♦  *  ♦  *  ♦  Liberty,  and 
necessity  are  consistent:  as  in  the  water,  that  hath  not  only  lib- 
erty, but  fl  necessity  of  descending  by  the  channel;  so  likewise 
in  the  actions  which  men  voluntarily  do:  which,  because  they  pro- 
ceed from  their  will,  proceed  from  liberty;  and  yet,  because 
every  act  of  man's  will,  and  every  desire,  and  inclination  pro- 
ceedeth  from  some  cause,  and  that  from  another  cause,  in  a 
continual  chain,  whose  first  link  is  in  the  hand  of  God  the  first 
of  all  causes,  proceed  from  necessity.  So  that  to  him  that  could 
see  the  connexion  of  those  causes,  the  necessity  of  all  men's 
voluntary  actions,  would  appear  manifest.  And  therefore  God, 
that  seeth,  and  disposeth  all  things,  seeth  also  that  the  liberty 
of  man  in  doing  what  he  will,  is  accompanied  with  the  necessity 
of  doing  that  which  God  will,  and  no  more,  nor  less.  For  though 
men  may  do  many  things,  which  God  does  not  command,  nor  is 
therefore  author  of  them ;  yet  they  can  have  no  passion,  nor  ap- 
petite to  anything,  of  which  appetite  God's  will  is  not  the  cause. 
And  did  not  his  will  assure  the  necessity  of  man's  will,  and  con- 
sequently of  all  that  on  man's  will  dependeth,  the  liberty  of  men 
would  be  a  contradiction,  and  impediment  to  the  omnipotence 
and  liberty  of  God.  And  this  shall  suffice,  as  to  the  matter  in 
hand,  of  that  natural  liberty,  which  only  is  properly  called  lib* 
erty." 


by  they  signify  the  power  and  greatness  of  anything, 
is  MAGNIFYING.  And  that  whereby  they  signify  the 
opinion  they  have  of  a  man's  felicity,  is  by  the  Greeks 
called  fiaxapctTfiS^,  for  which  we  have  no  name  in  our 
tongue.  And  thus  much  is  sufficient  for  the  present 
purpose,  to  have  been  said  of  the  passions. 

SUPPLEMENT   FROM 

LIBERTY  AND  NECESSITY; 

MY  OPINION  ABOUT  LIBERTY  AND  NECESSITY.* 

First  I  conceive,  that  when  it  cometh  into  a  man's 
mind  to  do  or  not  to  do  some  certain  action,  if  he  have 
no  time  to  deliberate,  the  doing  it  or  abstaining  neces- 
sarily follow  the  present  thought  he  hath  of  the  good  or 
evil  consequence  thereof  to  himself.  As  for  example, 
in  sudden  ajtger,  the  action  shall  follow  the  thought  of 
revenge;  in  sudden  fear,  the  thought  of  escape.  Also 
when  a  man  hath  time  to  deliberate,  but  deliberates  not, 
because  never  anything  appeared  that  could  make  him 
doubt  of  the  consequence,  the  action  follows  his  opinion 
of  the  goodness  or  harm  of  it.  These  actions  I  call  vol- 
untary, my  Lord,  if  I  understand  him  aright  that  calls 
them  spontaneous.  I  call  them  voluntary,  because 
those  actions  that  follow  immediately  the  last  appetite, 
are  voluntary,  and  here  where  is  one  only  appetite,  that 
one  is  the  last.  Besides,  I  see  it  is  reasonable  to  punish 
a  rash  action,  which  could  not  be  justly  done  by  man 
to  man,  unless  the  same  were  voluntary.  For  no  ctction 
of  a  man  can  be  said  to  be  without  deliberation,  though 
never  so  sudden,  because  it  is  supposed  he  had  time  to 
deliberate  all  the  precedent  time  of  his  life,  whether  he 


«M.  IV,  272-278. 


i66 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  PASSIONS 


167 


> 


should  do  that  kind  of  action  or  not.  And  hence  it  is, 
that  he  that  killeth  in  a  sudden  passion  of  anger,  shall 
nevertheless  be  justly  put  to  death,  because  all  the  time, 
wherein  he  was  able  to  consider  whether  to  kill  were 
good  or  evil,  shall  be  held  for  one  continual  deliberation, 
and  consequently  the  killing  shall  be  judged  to  proceed 
from  election. 

Secondly,  I  conceive  when  a  man  deliberates  whether 
he  shall  do  a  thing  or  not  do  it,  that  he  does  nothing  else 
but  consider  whether  it  be  better  for  himself  to  do  it  or 
not  to  do  it.  And  to  consider  an  action,  is  to  imagine 
the  consequences  of  it,  both  good  and  evil.  From  whence 
is  to  be  inferred,  that  deliberation  is  nothing  else  but  al- 
ternate imagination  of  the  good  and  evil  sequels  of  an 
action,  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  alternate  hope  and 
fear,  or  alternate  appetite  to  do  or  quit  the  action  of 
which  he  deliberateth. 

Thirdly,  I  conceive  that  in  all  deliberations,  that  is 
to  say,  in  all  alternate  succession  of  contrary  appetites, 
the  last  is  that  which  we  call  the  will,  and  is  immediately 
next  before  the  doing  of  the  action,  or  next  before  the 
doing  of  it  become  impossible.  All  other  appetites  to  do, 
and  to  quit,  that  come  upon  a  man  during  his  deliberations, 
are  called  intentions  and  inclinations,  but  not  zvills,  there 
being  but  one  zmll,  which  also  in  this  case  may  be  called 
the  last  will,  though  the  intentions  change  often. 

Fourthly,  I  conceive  that  those  actions,  which  a  man  is 
said  to  do  uipon  deliberation,  are  said  to  be  voluntary,  and 
done  upon  choice  and  election,  so  that  voluntary  action, 
and  action  proceeding  from  election  is  the  same  thing; 
and  that  of  a  voluntary  agent,  it  is  all  one  to  say,  he  is 
free,  and  to  say,  he  hath  not  made  an  end  of  deliberating. 

Fifthly,  I  conceive  liberty  to  be  rightly  defined  in  this 
manner:  Libert'^  is  the  absence  of  all  the  impediments 


to  action  that  are  not  contained  in  the  nature  and  intrinsic 
ccd  quality  of  the  af^enL  As  for  example,  the  water  is 
said  to  descend  freely,  or  to  have  liberty  to  descend  by 
the  channel  of  the  river,  because  there  is  no  impediment 
that  way,  but  not  across,  because  the  banks  are  impedi- 
ments. And  though  the  water  cannot  ascend,  yet  men 
never  say  it  wants  the  liberty  to  ascend,  but  the  faculty 
or  power,  because  the  impediment  is  in  the  nature  of  the 
water,  and  intrinsical.  So  also  we  say,  he  that  is  tied, 
wants  the  liberty  to  go,  because  the  impediment  is  not 
in  nim,  but  in  his  bands;  whereas  we  say  not  so  of  him 
that  is  sick  or  lame,  because  the  impediment  is  in  himself. 

Sixthly,  I  conceive  that  nothing  taketh  beginning 
from  itself,  but  from  the  action  of  some  other  immed- 
iate agent  without  itself.  And  that  therefore,  when  first 
a  man  hath  an  appetite  or  will  to  something,  to  which 
immediately  before  he  had  no  appetite  nor  will,  the  cause 
of  his  zvill,  is  not  the  will  itself,  but  something  else  not  in 
his  own  disposing.  So  that  whereas  it  is  out  of  contro- 
versy, that  of  voluntary  actions  the  will  is  the  necessary 
cause,  and  by  this  which  is  said,  the  will  is  also  caused 
by  other  things  whereof  it  disposeth  not,  it  followeth, 
that  voluntary  actions  have  all  of  them  necessary  causes, 
and  therefore  are  necessitated. 

Seventhly,  I  hold  that  to  be  a  sufficient  cause,  to 
which  nothing  is  wanting  that  is  needful  to  the  produc- 
ing of  the  effect.  The  same  also  is  a  necessary  cause 
For  if  it  be  possible  that  a  sufficient  cause  shall  not 
bring  forth  the  effect,  then  there  wantetb  somewhait 
which  was  needful  to  the  producing  of  it,  and  so  the 
cause  was  not  sufficient;  but  if  it  be  impossible  that  a 
sufficient  cause  should  not  produce  the  effect,  then  is  a 
sufficient  cause  a  necessary  cause,  for  that  is  said  to 
produce  an  effect  necessarily  that  cannot  but  produce  it. 


I! 


i68 


LEVIATHAN 


Hence  it  is  manifest,  that  whatsoever  is  produced,  is  pro- 
duced necessarily;  for  whatsoever  is  produced  hath  had 
a  sufficient  cause  to  produce  it,  or  else  it  had  not  been ; 
and  therefore  also  voluntary  actions  are  necessitated. 

Lastly,  that  ordinary  definition  of  a  free  agent,  name- 
ly, that  a  free  agent  is  that,  which,  zvhen  all  things  ar^ 
present  which  are  needful  to  produce  the  effect,  can  never- . 
iheless  not  produce  it,  implies  a  contradiction,  and  is  non- 
sense; being  as  much  as  to  say,  the  cause  may  be  suf- 
ficient, that  is  to  say,  necessary,  and  yet  the  effect  shall 
not  follow. 


MY  REASONS. 

For  the  first  five  points,  wherein  it  is  explicated  i, 
what  spontaneity  is;  ii,  what  deliberation  is;  in,  what 
will,  propension,  and  appettite  are ;  iv,  what  a  free  agent 
is :  V,  what  liberty  is ;  there  can  no  other  proof  be  offered 
but  every  man's  own  experience,  by  reflection  on  himself, 
and  remembering  what  he  useth  in  his  mind,  that  is,  what 
he  himself  meaneth  when  he  saith  an  action  is  spontane- 
ous,  a  man  deliberates;  such  is  his  will,  that  agent  or 
that  action  is  free.  Now  he  that  reflecteth  so  on  himself, 
cannot  but  be  satisfied,  that  deliberation  is  the  considera- 
tion of  the  good  and  evil  sequels  of  an  action  to  come; 
that  by  spontaneity  is  meant  inconsiderate  action,  or  else 
nothing  is  meant  by  it ;  that  will  is  the  last  act  of  our  de- 
.  liberation;  that  aifree  a^ent  is  hp  that  can  do  if  he  imlL 
\  and  forbear  if  he  wilL\3nd  that  liberty  is  the  absence  of 
\cxternal  impediments.  ^  But  to  those  that  out  of  custom 
speak  not  what  they  conceive,  but  what  they  hear,  and 
are  not  able,  or  will  not  take  the  pains  to  consider  what 
they  think  when  they  hear  such  words,  no  argument  can 
be  sufficient,  because  experience  and  matter  of  fact  are 
not   verified   by  other   men's   arguments,   but   by   every 


OF  PASSIONS 


169 


man's  own  sense  and  memory.  For  example,  how  can  it 
be  proved  that  to  love  a  thing  and  to  think  it  good  is 
all  one,  to  a  man  that  doth  not  mark  his  own  meaning  by 
those  words?  Or  how  can  it  be  proved  that  eternity  is 
not  nunc  stans  to  a  man  that  says  those  words  by  custom, 
and  never  considers  how  he  can  conceive  the  thing  in  his 
mind  ? 

Also  the  sixth  point,  that  a  man  cannot  imagine  any- 
thing to  begin  without  a  cause,  can  no  other  way  be  made 
known,  but  by  trying  how  he  can  imagine  it ;  but  if  he  try, 
he  shall  find  as  much  reason,  if  there  be  no  cause  of 
the  thing,  to  conceive  it  should  begin  at  one  time  as  an- 
other, that  he  hath  equal  reason  to  think  it  should  begin 
at  all  times,  which  is  impossible,  and  therefore  he  must 
think  there  was  some  special  cause  why  it  began  then, 
rather  than  sooner  or  later;  or  else  that  it  began  never, 
but  was  eternal. 

For  the  seventh  point,  which  is,  that  all  events  have 
necessary  causes,  it  is  there  proved,  in  that  they  have 
sufficient  causes.  Further  let  us  in  this  place  also  sup- 
pose any  event  never  so  casual,  as  the  throwing,  for 
example,  ames  ace  upon  a  pair  of  dice,  and  see,  if  it  must 
not  have  been  necessary  before  it  was  thrown.  For  see- 
ing it  was  thrown,  it  had  a  beginning,  and  consequently 
a  sufficient  cause  to  produce  it,  consisting  partly  in  the 
(//c^,  partly  in  outward  things,  as  the  posture  of  the  parts 
of  the  hand,  the  measure  of  force  applied  by  the  caster, 
the  posture  of  the  parts  of  the  table,  and  the  like.  In  sum, 
there  was  nothing  wanting  which  was  necessarily  re- 
quisite to  the  producing  of  that  particular  cast,  and  con- 
sequently the  cast  was  necessarily  thrown ;  for  if  it  had 
not  been  thrown,  there  had  wanted  somewhat  requisite 
to  the  throwing  of  it,  and  so  the  cause  had  not  been  suf- 
ficient.   In  the  like  manner  it  may  be  |3roved  that  every 


170 


LEVIATHAN 


Other  accident,  how  contingent  soever  it  seem,  or  how 

voluntary  soever  it  be,  is  produced  necessarily,  which 

is  that  that  my  Lord   Bishop   disputes  against.     The 

same  may  be  proved  also  in  this  manner.    Let  the  case 

be  put,  for  example,  of  the  weather.    //  is  necessary  that 

to-morrow  it  shall  rain  or  not  rain.      If  therefore  it  be 

not  necessary  it  shall  rain,  it  is  necessary  it  shall  not  rain, 

otherwise  there  is  no  necessity  that  the  proposition,  it 

shall  rain  or  not  rain,  should  be  true.    I  know  there  be 

some  that  say,  it  may  necessarily  be  true  that  one  of  the 

two  shall  come  to  pass,  but  not,  singly  that  it  shall  rain, 

or  that  it  shall  not  rain,  which  is  as  much  to  say,  one  of 

them  is  necessary,  yet  neither  of  them  is  necessary;  and 

therefore  to  seem  to  avoid  that  absurdity,  they  make  a 

distinction,  that  neither  of  them  is  true  determinate,  but 

indeterminate;  which  distinction  either  signifies  no  more 

but  this,  one  of  them  is  true,  but  we  know  not  which, 

and  so  the  necessity  remains,  though  we  know  it  not; 

or  if  the  meaning  of  the  distinction  be  not  that,  it  hath 

no  meaning,  and  they  might  as  well  have  said,  one  of 

them  is  true  Titirice,  but  neither  of  them,  Tu  patulice. 

The  last  thing,  in   which  also  consisteth  the  whole 
controversy,  namely  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  an 
agent,  which  when  all  things  requisite  to  action  are  pres- 
cut,  can  nevertheless  forbear  to  produce  it;  or,  which  is 
all  one,  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  freedom  front  ne- 
cessity, is  easily  inferred  from  that  which  hath  been  before 
alleged.     For  if  it  be  an  agent,  it  can  work;  and  if  it 
work,  there  is  nothing  wanting  of  what  is  requisite  to 
produce  the  action,  and  consequently  the  cause  of  the 
action  is  sufficient;  and  if  sufficient,  then  also  necessary, 
as  hath  been  proved  before. 

And  thus  you  see  how  the  inconveniences,  which  his 
Lordship   objecteth   must   follow   upon   tlie   holding   of 


/ 


OF  PASSIONS 


I7« 


necessity,  are  avoided,  and  the  necessity  itself  demon- 
stratively  proved.  To  which  I  could  add,  if  I  thought 
it  good  logic,  the  inconvenience  of  denying  necessity,  as 
that  it  destroyeth  both  the  decrees  and  the  prescience  of 
God  Almighty;  for  whatsoever  God  hath  purposed  to 
bring  to  pass  by  man,  as  an  instrument,  or  forseeth  shall 
come  to  pass ;  a  man,  if  he  have  liberty,  such  as  his  Lord- 
ship affirmeth,  from  necessitation,  might  frustrate,  and 
make  not  to  come  to  pass,  and  God  should  either  not  fore- 
know it,  and  not  decree  it,  or  he  should  foreknow  such 
things  shall  be,  as  shall  never  be,  and  decree  that  which 
shall  never  come  to  pass. 


OF  THE  ENnS  OF  DISCOURSE 


173 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OF  THE  ENDS^  OR  RESOLUTIONS  OF  DISCOURSE. 

Of  all  discourse,  governed  by  desire  of  knowledge, 
there  is  at  last  an  end,  either  by  attaining,  or  by  giving 
over.  And  in  the  chain  of  discourse,  wheresoever  it 
be  interrupted,  there  is  an  end  for  that  time. 

If  the  discourse  be  merely  mental,  it  consisteth  of 
thoughts  that  the  thing  will  b^,  and  will  not  be;  or  that  it 
has  been,  and  has  not  been,  alternat^y.  So  that  where- 
soever you  break  off  the  chain  of  the  man's  discourse. 
you  leave  him  in  a  presumption  of  //  will  be,  or,  it  will 
not  he;  or,  it  has  been,  or,  has  not  been.  All  which  is 
opinion}  And  that  which  is  alternate  appetite,  in  delib- 
erating concerning  good  and  evil;  the  same  is  alter- 
nate opinion,  in  the  enquiry  of  the  truth  of  past,  and  fu- 
ture. And  as  the  last  appetite  in  deliberation,  is  called 
the  will;  so  the  last  opimnn  j^  gpfif-rji^  of  the  JtmiL-Qi 
past,  and_Jutm:g^  is  called  the  judgment.^  or  resolute 
and  final  sentence  of  him  that  discourseth.  And  as  the 
whole  chain   of  appetites   alternate,   in  the   question  of 

^  Compare  above  p.  160,  n.  5. 

/Hobbes  does  not  usually  use  the  term  in  this  sense.  For 
his  usual  meaning  compare  above  p.  113,  n.  i..  below  p.  179. 
^nd  Human  Nature,  (M.  IV,  55).  "A  man  delighteth  himself 
either  with  finding  expected  similitude  of  things,  otherwise  much 
unlike,  in  which  men  place  the  excellency  of  fancy,  *  *  * 
*  *  *  *  or  else  in  discerning  suddenly  dissimilitude  in 
things  that  otherwise  appear  the  same.  And  this  virtue  of  the 
mind  is  that  by  which  men  attain  to  exact  and  perfect  knowl- 
edge; and  the  pleasure  thereof  consisteth  in  continual  instruc- 
tion, and  in  distinction  of  places,  persons,  and  seasons,  and  is 
commonly  termed  by  the  name  of  judgment;  for,  to  judge  is 
nothing  else,  but  to  distinguish  or  discern :  and  both  fancy  and 
Judgment  are  commonly  comprehended  under  the  name  of  wit, 
which  seemeth  to  be  a  tenuity  and  agility  of  spirits,  contrary  to 
that  restiness  of  the  spirits  supposed  in  those  that  are  dull." 


good,  or  bad,  is  called  deliberation;  so  the  whole  chain 
of  opinions  alternate,  in  the  question  of  true,  or  false, 
is  called  doubt. 

No  discourse  whatsoever,  can  end  in  absolute  knowl- 
edge of  fact,  past,  or  to  come.  For,  as  for  the  knowl^ 
edge  of  fact,  it  is  originally,  sense ;  and  ever  after,  mem- 
ory. And  for  the  knowledge  of  consequence,  which  I 
have  said  before  is  called  science,  it  is  not  absolute,  but 
cOT^ituMM^-  No  man  can  know  by  discourse,  that  this, 
or  that,  is,  has  been,  or  will  be ;  which  is  to  know  abso- 
lutely :  but  only,  that  if  this  be,  that  is ;  tf  this  has  been, 
that  has  been;  if  this  shall  be,  that  shall  be:  which  is 
to  know  conditionally ;  and  that  not  the  consequence  of 
one  thing  to  another;  but  of  one  name  of  a  thing,  to 
another  name  of  the  same  thing. 

And  therefore,  when  the  discourse  is  put  into  speech, 
and  begins  with  the  definitions  of  words,  and  proceeds 
by  connexion  of  the  same  into  general  affirmations,  and 
of  these  again  into  syllogisms;  the  end  or  last  sum  is 
called  the  conclusion;  and  the  thought  of  the  mind  by 
it  signified,  is  that  conditional  knowledge,  or  knowl- 
edge of  the  consequence  of  words,  which  is  commonly 
called  SCIENCE.'  But  if  the  first  ground  of  such  dis- 
course, be  not  definitions;  or  if  the  definitions  be  not 
rightly  joined  together  into  syllogisms,  then  the  end  or 
conclusion,  is  again  opinion,  namely  of  the  truth  of  some- 
what said,  though  sometimes  in  absurd  and  senseless 
words,  without  possibility  of  being  understood.  When 
two,  or  more  men,  know  of  one  and  the  sam.e  fact,  they 
are  said  to  be  conscious  of  it  one  to  another ;  which  is 
as  much  as  to  know  it  together.  And  because  such  are 
fittest  witnesses  of  the  facts  of  one  another,  or  of  a 


•For  other   references   to  knowledge   and   science   see  above 
Chapter  V,  below  Chapter  IX,  and  index. 


174 


LEVIATHAN 


third;  it  was,  and  ever  will  be  reputed  a  very  evil  act, 
for  any  man  to  speak  against  his  conscience:  or  to  cor- 
rupt or  force  another  so  to  do:  insomuch  that  the  plea 
of  conscience,  has  been  always  hearkened  unto  very  dil- 
igently in  all  times.    Afterwards,  men  made  use  of  the 
same  word  metaphorically,  for  the  knowledge  of  their 
own  secret   facts,   and   secret   thoughts;   and   therefore 
it  is  rhetorically  said,  that  the  conscience  is  a  thousand 
witnesses.     And  last  of  all,  men,   vehemently    in    love 
with  their  own  new  opinions,  though  never  so  absurd, 
and  obstinately  bent  to  maintain  them,  gave  those  their 
opinions  also  that  reverenced  name  of  conscience,  as  if 
they  would  have  it  seem  unlawful,  to  change  or  speak 
against  them;  and  so  pretend  to  know  they  are  true, 
when  they  know  at  most,  but  that  they  think  so.* 

*  Compare  Human  Nature,   (M.  IV,  29).      "It  is  either  set- 
ence  or  opinion  which   we  commonly  mean  by  the  word  con- 
science:  for  men  say  that  such  and  such  a  thing  is  true  in  or  up- 
on their  conscience ;  which  they    never    do,  when    they  think  it 
doubtful;  and  therefore  they  know,  or  think  they  know  it  to  be 
true.     But  men,  when  they  say  things  upon  their  conscience,  arc 
not  therefore  presumed  certainly    to    know    the  truth  of  what 
they  say ;  it  remaineth  then,  that  that  word  is  used  by  them  that 
have   an   opmton,  not  only  of  the  truth  of  the  thing,  but  also  of 
their  knowledge  of  it,  to  which  the  truth  of  the  proposition  is 
consequent.      Conscience  I  therefore  define  to  be  opinion  of  evi- 
dence.      (M.  IV,   163).     '*A   subject  may  no  more  govern  his 
o^n  actions  according  to  his  own  discretion  and  judgment,  or, 
which  IS  all  one,  conscience,  as  the  present  occasions  from  time 
to  time  shall  dictate  to  him;  but  must  be  tied  to  do  according 
to  that  will  only,  which  once  for  all  he  had  long  ago  laid  up,  and 
myolved  in  the  wills  of  the  major  part  of  an  assembly,  or  in  the 
will  of  some  one  man.    But  this  is  really  no  inconvenience.    For. 
as  It  hath  been  showed  before,  it  is  the  only  means,  by  which  we 
have  any  possibility  of  preserving  ourselves.     For  if  every  man 
w-ere  allowed  this  liberty  of  following  his  conscience,  in  such  dif- 
ference of  consciences,  they  would  not  live  together  in  peace  an 
Hour.     But  It  appeareth  a  great  inconvenience  to  every  man  in 
particular,  to  be  debarred    of    this    liberty,    because    every  one 
apart  considereth  it  as  in  himself,  and  not  as  in  the  rest;  by 
which  means,  liberty  appeareth  in  the  likeness  of  rule  and  gov- 
ernment over  others.    For  where  one  man  is  at  liberty,  and  the 


OF  THE  ENDS  OF  DISCOURSE 


m 


When  a  man's  discourse  beginneth  not  at  definitions, 
it  beginneth  either  at  some  other  contemplation  of  his 
own,  and  then  it  is  still  called  opinion;  or  it  beginneth 
at  some  saying  of  another,  of  whose  ability  to  know 
the  truth,  and  of  whose  honesty  in  not  deceiving,  he 
doubteth  not;  and  then  the  discourse  is  not  so  much 
concerning  the  thing,  as  the  person;  and  the  resolution 
is  called  belief,  and  faith:  faith,  in  the  man;  belief ^ 
both  of  the  man,  and  of  the  truth  of  what  he  says.  So 
that  in  belief  are  two  opinions :  one  of  the  saying  of  the 
man ;  the  other  of  his  virtue.  To  have  faith  in,  or  trust 
to,  or  believe  a  man,  signify  the  same  thing;  namely, 
an  opinion  of  the  veracity  of  the  man:  but  to  believe 
what  is  scud,  signifieth  only  an  opinion  of  the  truth  of 
the  saying.  But  we  are  to  observe  that  this  phrase, 
/  believe  in;  as  also  the  Latin,  credo  in;  and  the  Greek, 
mffrevm  e't?,  are  never  used  but  in  the  writings  of   di- 


rest bound,  there  that  one  hath  government;  which  honour,  he 
that  understandeth  not  so  much,  demanding  by  the  name  simply 
of  liberty,  thinketh  it  a  great  grievance  and  injury  to  be  denied 
it."  (M.  IV.  172).  "To  take  away  this  scruple  of  conscience, 
ccncerning  obedience  to  human  laws,  amongst  those  that  inter- 
pret to  themselves  the  word  of  God  in  the  Holy  Scriptures,  I 
propound  to  their  consideration,  first,  that  no  human  law  is  in- 
tended to  oblige  the  conscience  of  a  man,  unless  it  break  out  into 
action,  either  of  the  tongue,  or  other  part  of  the  body.  The  law 
made  thereupon  would  be  of  none  effect,  because  no  man  is  able 
to  discern,  but  by  word  or  other  action  whether  such  law  be 
kept  or  broken."  (M.  IV,  186).  "And  though  it  be  true, 
whatsoever  a  man  does  against  his  conscience,  is  sin ;  yet  the 
obedience  in  these  cases,  is  neither  sin,  nor  against  the  con- 
science. For  the  conscience  being  nothing  else  but  a  man's 
settled  judgment  and  opinion,  when  he  hath  once  transferred  his 
right  of  judging  to  another,  that  which  shall  be  commanded, 
is  no  less  his  judgment,  than  the  judgment  of  that  other.  So  that 
in  obedience  to  laws,  a  man  doth  still  according  to  his  own  con- 
science, but  not  his  private  conscience.  And  whatsoever  is  done 
contrary  to  private  conscience,  is  then  a  sin,  when  the  laws  have 
left  him  to  his  own  liberty,  and  never  else.  And  then  whatsoever 
a  man  doth,  not  only  believing  it  is  ill  done,  but  doubting  wheth- 
er it  be  ill  or  not,  is  done  ill,  in  case  he  may  lawfully  omit  the 


176 


LEVIATHAN 


vines.  Instead  of  them,  in  other  writings  are  put,  /  be- 
lieve  him;  I  trust  him;  I  have  faith  in  him;  I  rely  on 
him:  and  in  Latin,  credo  illi:  Udo  illi:  and  in  Greeks 
wtffTeuu}  auT^:  and  that  this  singularity  of  the  ecclesiastic 
use  of  the  word  hath  raised  many  disputes  about  the 
right  object  of  the  Christian  faith. 

But  by  believing  in,  as  it  is  in  the  creed,  is  meant, 
not  trust  in  the  person;  but  confession  and  acknowl- 
edgement of  the  doctrine.  For  not  only  Christians, 
but  all  manner  of  men  do  so  believe  in  God,  as  to  hold 
all  for  truth  they  hear  him  say,  whether  they  under- 
stand it,  or  not ;  which  is  all  the  faith  and  trust  can  pos- 
sibly be  had  in  any  person  whatsoever:  but  they  do  not 
all  believe  the  doctrine  of  the  creed. 

From  whence  we  may  infer,  that  when  we  believe 
any  saying  whatsoever  it  be,  to  be  true,  from  argu- 
ments taken,  not  from  the  thing  itself,  or  from  the  prin- 
ciples of  natural  reason,  but  from  the  authority,  and 
good  opinion  we  have,  of  him  that  hath  said  it;  then  is 
the  speaker,  or  person  we  believe  in,  or  trust  in,  and 
whose  word  we  take,  the  object  of  our  faith ;  and  the 
honour  done  in  believing,  is  done  to  him  only.  And 
consequently,  when  we  believe  that  the  Scriptures    are 


doing."  Also  Leviathan  (M.  Ill,  311).  "Another  doctrine  repug- 
nant to  civil  society,  is,  that  whatsoever  a  man  does  against  his 
conscience,  is  sin;  and  it  dependeth  on  the  presumption  of  making 
himself  judge  of  good  and  evil.  For  a  man's  conscience,  and  his 
judgment  is  the  same  thing,  and  as  the  judgment,  so  also  the 
conscience  may  be  erroneous.  Therefore,  though  he  that  is 
subject  to  np  civil  law,  sinneth  in  all  he  does  against  his  con- 
science, because  he  has  no  other  rule  to  follow  but  his  own  reason ; 
yet  it  is  not  so  with  him  that  lives  in  a  commonwealth;  because 
the  law  is  the  public  conscience,  by  which  he  hath  already  under- 
taken to  be  guided.  Otherwise  in  such  diversity,  as  there  is  of 
private  consciences,  which  are  but  private  opinions,  the  common- 
wealth must  needs  be  distracted,  and  no  man  dare  to  obey  the 
sovereign  power,  further  than  it  shall  seem  good  in  his  own 
eyes." 


OF  THE  ENDS  OF  DISCOURSE 


177 


the  word  of  God,  having  no  immediate  revelation  from 
God  himself,  bur  belief,  faith,  and  trust  is  in  the  church ; 
whose  word  we  take,  and  acquiesce  therein.  And  they  that 
believe  that  which  a  prophet  relates  unto  them  in  the 
name  of  God,  take  the  word  of  the  prophet,  do  honour 
to  him,  and  in  him  trust,  and  believe,  touching  the  truth 
of  what  he  relateth,  whether  it  be  a  true,  or  a  false 
prophet.  And  so  it  is  also  with  all  other  history.    For  if 
I  should  not  believe  all  that  is  written  by  historians,  of 
the  glorious  acts  of  Alexander,  or  Caesar;  I  do  not  think 
the     ghost     of  Alexander,  or  Caesar,  had     any     just 
cause  to  be  offended ;  or  anybody  else,  but  the  historian. 
If  Livy  say  the  gods  made  once  a  cow  speak,  and  we 
believe  it  not ;  we  distrust  not  God  therein,  but  Livy,    So 
that  it  is  evident,  that  whatsoever  we  believe,  upon  no 
other  reason,  than  what  is  drawn  from  authority  of  men 
only,  and  their  writings ;  whether  they  be  sent  from  God 
or  not,  is  faith  in  men  only.** 


•Compare  Philosophical  Rudiments,  (M.  II.  394)-    P"^J^^ 
our  reasons,  for  which  we  assent  to  some  proposition,  deme  not 
from  the  proposition  itself,  but  from  the  person  propounding, 
whSJn  we  esteem  so  learned  that  he  is  not  deceived  and  we  ^ee  no 
reason  why  he  should  deceive  us ;  our  assent,  because  it  grows  not 
from  any  confidence  of  our  own,  but  from  another  man  s  knowl- 
edgT,  is  called  faith.    And  by  the  confidence  of  whom  we  do  be- 
lieve  we  are  said  to  trust  them,  or  to  trust  m  them.     By  what 
hath  b^en  said!  the  difference  appears,  first,>etween  /atf/i  and 
profession;  for  that  is  always  joined  with  inward  assent    this 
hot  always.     That  is  an  inward  persuasion  of  the  mind,  this  an 
Sutwa^d  obedience.    Next,  between  /a»U  and  optmon:  for  this  de- 
pends  on  our  own  reason,  that  on  the  good  esteem  we  have  of  an- 
other     Lastly,  between  faith  and  knowledge;  for  this  deliberately 
?akes  a  prop^^^^^^^       broU  and  chewed;  that  swallows  it  down 
whole  and  entire.    The  explication  of  words,  whereby  the  matter 
enquired  after  is  propounded,  is  conducible  to  knowledge    nay, 
the  only  way  to  knozv,  is  by  definition.    But  this  is  Pjej^diaal  ^ 
faith;  for  those  things  which  exceed  human  capacity,  and  are  pro- 
pounded  to  be  believed,  are  never  more  evident  by  exphca  on, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  more  obscure  and  harder  to  be  credited. 
And  the  same  thing  befalls  a  man,  who  endeavours  to  demon- 


INTELLECTUAL  VIRTUES 


179 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

OF  THE  VIRTUES  COMMONLY  CALLED  INTELLECTUAL;  AND 

THEIR    CONTRARY    DEFECTS. 

Virtue  generally,  in  all  sorts  of  subjects,  is  some- 
what that  is  valued  for  eminence ;  and  consisteth  in  com- 
parison. For  if  all  things  were  equal  in  all  men,  noth- 
ing would  be  prized.  And  by  virtues  intellectual,  are 
always  understood  such  abilities  ot  the  mind,  as  men 
praise,  value,  and  desire  should  be  in  themselves;  and 
go  commonly  under  the  name  of  a  zood  wit;  though  the 
same  word  wit,  be  used  also,  to  distinguish  one  certain 
ability  from  the  rest.* 

These  virtues  are  of  two  sorts:  natural^^^nAnr. 
quired.  By  natural,  I  mean  not,  that  whiciTlTman 
hath  from  his  birth:  for  that  is  nothing  else  but  sense; 
wherein  men  differ  so  little  one  from  another,  and  from 
brute  beasts,  as  it  is  not  to  be  reckoned  amongst  vir- 
tues. But  I  mean,  that  ivit,  which  is  gotten  by  use 
only,  and  experience;  without  method,  culture,  or  in- 

strate  the  mysteries  of  faith  by  natural  reason,  which  happens  to 
a  sick  man  who  will  needs  chew  before  he  will  swallow  his  whole- 
some but  bitter  pills ;  whence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  he  presently 
brings  them  up  again ;  which  perhaps  would  otherwise,  if  he  had 
taken  them  well  down,  have  proved  his  remedy."  Also  Human 
Nature,  (M.  IV,  30).  ^Belief,  which  is  the  admitting  of  IVoZ 
ositions  upon  trust,  in  many  cases  is  no  less  free  from  doubt  than 
perfect  and  manifest  knozvledge:  for  as  there  is  nothing  whereof 
there  is  not  some  cause ;  so,  when  there  is  doubt,  there  must  be 
some  cause  thereof  conceived.  Now  there  be  many  things  which 
we  receive  from  report  of  others,  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  im- 
agine any  cause  of  doubt:  for  what  can  be  opposed  against  the 
conS*ent  of  all  men,  in  things  they  can  know,  and  have  no  cause  to 
report  otherwise  than  they  are,  such  as  is  a  great  part  of  our 
histories,  unless  a  man  would  say  that  all  the  world  had  consHred 
to  deceive  htm." 

*For  the  distinction  of  moral  virtues  see  above  p.  147,  n.  3. 


struction.  This  natu^^l  wit,  consisteth  principally 
in  two  things  ;^Ierity  nf  imagining,  that  is,  swift  suc- 
cession of  one  thought  to  another ;  and  steady  direction 
to  some  approved  end.  On  the  contrary  a  slow  imag- 
ination, maketh  that  defect,  or  fault  of  the  mind,  which 
is  commonly  called  dullness,  stupidity,  and  sometimes 
by  other  names  that  signify  slowness  of  motion,  or 
difficulty  to  be  moved. 

And  this  difference  of  quickness,  is  caused  by  the 
difference  of  men's  passions ;  that  love  and  dislike,  some 
one  thing,  some  another:  and  therefore  some  men's 
thoughts  run  one  way,  some  another;  and  are  held  to, 
and  observe  differently  the  things  that  pass  through 
their  imagination.  And  whereas  in  this  succession  of 
men's  thoughts,  there  is  nothing  to  observe  in  the  things 
they  think  on,  but  either  in  what  they  be  like  one  an- 
other, or  in  what  they  be  unlike,  or  what  they  serve  for, 
or  how  they  serve  to  such  a  purpose;  those  that  ob- 
serve their  similitudes,  in  case  they  be  such  as  are  but 
rarely  observed  by  others,  are  said  to  have  a  good  wit; 
by  which,  in  this  occasion,  is  meant  a  good  fancy.  But 
they  that  observe  their  differences,  and  dissimilitudes; 
which  is  called  distinguishing,  and  discerning,  and 
judging  between  thing  and  thing;  in  case,  such  dis- 
cerning be  not  easy,  are  said  to  have  a  good  judgment; 
and  particularly  in  matter  of  conversation  and  business; 
wherein,  times,  places,  and  persons  are  to  be  discerned, 
this  virtue  is  called  discretiox.  The  former,  that  is, 
fancy,  without  the  help  of  judgment,  is  not  commended 
gs  a  virtue:  but  the  latter  which  is  judgment,  and  dis- 
cretion, is  commended  for  itself,  without  the  help  of 
fancy.  Besides  the  discretion  of  times,  places,  and  per- 
sons, necessary  to  a  good  fancy,  there  is  required  also 
an  often  application  of  his  thoughts  to  their  end;  that 


1 


lao 


LEVIATHAN 


INTELLECTUAL  VIRTUES 


I«3 


is  to  say,  to  some  use  to  be  made  of  them.    This  done; 
he  that  hath  this  virtue,  will  be  easily  Rtted  with  simil- 
itudes, that  will  please,  not  only  by  illustrations  of  his 
discourse,  and  adorning  it  with  new  and  apt  metaphors ; 
but  also,  by  the  rarity  of  their  invention.     But  with- 
out steadiness,  and  direction  to  some  end,  a  great  fancy 
is  one  kind  of  madness ;  such  as  they  have,  that  entering 
into  any  discourse,  are  snatched  from  their  purpose,  by 
every  thing  that  comes  in  their  thought,  into  so  many, 
and    so   long   digressions,    and    parentheses,    that    they 
utterly  lose  themselves :  which  kind  of  folly,  I  know  no 
particular  name  for:  but  the  cause  of  it  is,  sometimes 
want  of  experience;   whereby   that   seemeth  to  a  man 
new  and  rare,  which  doth  not  so  to  others :  sometimes 
pusillanimity ;  by  which  that  seems  great  to  him,  which 
other  men  think  a  trifle :  and  whatsoever  is  new,  or  great, 
and  therefore  thought  fit  to  be  told,  withdraws  a  man 
by  degrees  from  the  intended  way  of  his  discourse. 

In  a  good  poem,  whether  it  be  epic,  or  dramatic;  as 
also  m  sonnets,  epigrams,  and  other  pieces,  both  judg- 
ment and  fancv  are  required:  but  the  fancy  musf  be 
more  eminent :  because  they  please  for  the  extravagancy; 
but  ought  not  to  please  by  indiscretion. 

In  a  good  history,  the  judgment  must  be  eminent; 
because  the  goodness  consisteth,  in  the  method,  in  the 
truth,  and  in  the  choice  of  the  actions  that  are  most 
profitable  to  be  known.  Fancy  has  no  place,  but  only 
in  adorning  the  style. 

In  orations  of  praise,  and  in  invectives,  the  fancy 
is  predominant;  because  the  design  is  not  truth,  but 
to  honour  or  dishonour;  which  is  done  by  noble,  or  by 
vile  comparisons.  The  judgment  does  but  suggest 
what  circumstances  make  an  action  laudable,  or  cul- 
pable. 


In  hortatives,  and  pleadings,  as  truth,  or  disguise 
serveth  best  to  the  design  in  hand ;  so  is  the  judgment, 
or  the  fancy  most  required.  ^ 

In  demonstration,  in  counsel,  and  all  rigorous  search 
of  truth,  judgment  does  all,  except  sometimes  the  under- 
standing have  need  to  be  opened  by  some  apt  similitude ; 
and  then  there  is  so  much  use  of  fancy.  But  for  meta- 
phors, they  are  in  this  case  utterly  excluded.  For  seeing 
they  openly  profess  deceit ;  to  admit  them  into  counsel, 
or  reasoning,  were  manifest  folly. 

And  in  any  discourse  whatsoever,  if  the  defect  of  dis- 
cretion be  apparent,  how  extravagant  soever  the  fancy 
be,  the  whole  discourse  will  be  taken  for  a  sign  of  want 
of'  wit ;  and  so  will  it  never  when  the  discretion  is 
manifest,  though  the  fancy  be  never  so  ordinary. 

The  secret  thoughts  of  a  man  run  over  all  things, 
holy,  profane,  clean,  obscene,  grave,  and  light,  without 
shame,   or   blame;   which   verbal   discourse   cannot   do, 
farther  than  the  judgment  shall  approve  of  the  time, 
place,  and  persons.    An  anatomist,  or  a  physician  may 
speak,  or  write  his  judgment  of  unclean  things;  because 
it  is  not  to  please,  but  profit:  but  for  another  man  to 
write  his  extravagant,  and  pleasant  fancies  of  the  same, 
is  as  if  a  man,  from  being  tumbled  into  the  dirt,  should 
come  and  present  himself  before  good  company.     And 
it  is  the  want  of  discretion  that  makes  the  difference 
Again,  in  professed  remissness  of  mind,  and  familiar 
company,  a  man  may  play  with  the  sounds,  and  equivo- 
cal significations  of  words ;  and  that  many  times  with  en- 
counters of  extraordinary  fancy :  but  in  a  sermon,  or  in 
public,  or  before  persons  unknown,  or  whom  we  ought 
to  reverence;  there  is  no  gingling  of  words  that  will 
not  be  accounted  folly :  and  the  difference  is  only  in  the 
want  of  discretion.    So  that  where  wit  is  wanting,  it  i» 


A 


hS2 


LEVIATHAN 


INTELLECTUAL  VIRTUES 


183 


not  fancy  that  is  wanting,  but  discretion.  Judgment 
therefore  without  fancy  is  wit,  but  fancy  without  judg- 
ment, not. 

When  the  thoughts  of  a  man,  that  has  a  design  in 
hand,  running  over  a  multitude  of  things,  observes  how 
they  conduce  to  that  design ;  or  what  design  they  may 
conduce  tmto;  if  his  observations  be  such  as  are  not 
easy,  or  usual,  this  wit  of  his  is  called  PRuofiiio:;  and 
depends  on  much  experience,  and  memory  of  the  like 
things,   and   their   consequences   heretofore.     In   which 
there  is  not' so  much  difference  of  men;  as  there  is  in 
their  fancies  and  judgment;  because  the  experience  of 
men  equal  in  age,  is  not  much  unequal,  as  to  the  quan- 
tity; but  lies  in  different  occasions;  every  one  having 
his  private  designs.     To  govern  well  a  family,  and-^ 
^kingdpm^are   not   different   decrees   of   prudence;   but 
different  sorts  of  busmess:  no  nriore  than  tn  Hmw  o  piV- 
ture  in  little,  or  as  great,  or  greater  than  the  life,  are 
different  degrees  of  art.    A  plain  husbandman  is  more 
prudent   in   affairs   of   his   own   house,   than   a   privy- 
councillor  in  the  affairs  of  another  man. 

To  prudence,  if  you  add  the  use  of  unjust,  or  dis- 
honest means,  such  as  usually  are  prompted  to  men  by 
fear,  or  want;  you  have  that  crooked  wisdom,  which  is 
called  c_RAFT ;  which  is  the  sign  of  pusillanimity.  For 
magnanimity  is  contempt  of  unjust,  or  dishonest  helps. 
And  that  which  the  Latins  call  versutia,  translated  into 
English,  shifting,  and  is  a  putting  off  of  a  present  dang- 
er or  incommodity,  by  engaging  into  a  greater,  as  when 
a  man  robs  one  to  pay  another,  is  but  a  shorter-sighted 
craft,  called  versutia,  from  verstira,  which  signifies  tak- 
ing money  at  usury  for  the  present  payment  of  interest. 
As  for  acquired  wit,  I  mean  acquired  by  method 
and  instruction,  there  is  none    but     reason;     which 


^ 


grounded  on  the  right  use  of  speech,  and  produceth  the 
sciences.    But  of  reason  and  science  I  have  already  spok-* 
en,  in  the  fifth  and  sixth  chapters. 

The  causes  of  this  difference  of  wits,  are  in  the  pas- 
sions; and  the  difference  of  passions  proceedeth,  partly 
from  the  different  constitution  of  the  body,  and  partly 
from  different  education.  For  if  the  difference  proceed- 
ed from  the  temper  of  the  brain,  and  the  organs  of  sense, 
either  exterior  or  interior,  there  would  be  no  less  differ- 
ence of  men  in  their  sight,  hearing,  or  other  senses,  than 
in  their  fancies  and  discretions.  It  proceeds  therefore 
from  the  passions;  which  are  different,  not  only  from 
the  difference  of  men's  complexions ;  but  also  from  their 
difference  of  customs,  and  education.' 


is 


Compare   Human   Nature,    (M.    IV.    54)-     "Having   shewed 
in  Uie  precedent   chapters,  that   sense  proceedeth   from  the  ac- 
tion of  external  objects  upon  the  brain,  or  some  internal  sub- 
stance of  the  head;  and  that  the  passions  proceed  from  the  al- 
teration there   made,   and   continued   to   the   heart;   it  is  conse- 
quent in  the  next  place,  seeing  the  diversity  of  degrees  in  knowl- 
edge in  divers  men,  to  be  greater  than  may  be  ascribed  to  the 
divers  tempers  of  their  brain,  to  declare  what  other  causes  may 
produce  such  odds,  and  excess  of  capacity,  as  we  daily  observe 
in  one  man  above  another.     As  for  that  difference  which  ariseth 
from  sickness,  and  such  accidental  distempers,  I  omit  the  same, 
as  impertinent  to  this  place,  and  consider  it  only  in  such  as  have 
their  health,  and  organs  well  disposed.     If  the  difference  were 
in  the  natural  temper  of  the  brain,  I  can  imagine  no  reason  why 
the  same  should  not  appear  first  and  most  of  all  in  the  senses, 
which  being    equal    both    in    the    wise   and    less    wise,    infer   an 
equal  temper  in  the  common  organ    (namely  the  brain)   of  all 
the  senses.    But  we  see  by  experience,  that  joy  and  grief  proceed 
not  in  all  men  from  the  same  causes,  and  that  men  differ  very 
much  in  the  constitution  of  the  body ;  whereby,  that  which  help- 
eth  and  furthereth  vital  constitution  in  one,  and  is  therefore  de- 
lightful, hindereth  it  and  crosseth  it  in  another,  and  therefore 
causeth  grief.    The  difference  therefore  of  Tvits  hath  its  original 
from  the  different  passions,  and  from  the  ends  to  which  the  ap- 
petite leadeth  them.     And  first,  those  men  whose  ends  are  sens- 
ual delight,  and  generally  are  addicted  to  ease,  food,  onerattons 
and  exonerations  of  the  body,  must  needs  be  the  less  thereby  de- 
lighted with  those  imaginations  that  conduce  not  to  those  ends. 


«4 


LEVIATHAN 


INTELLIGENT  VIRTUES 


i8S 


The  passions  that  most  of  all  cause  the  difference  of 
wit,  are  principally,  the  more  or  less  desire  of  power, 
of  riches,  of  knowledge,  and  of  honour.  All  which  mayj 
be  reduced  to  the  first,  that  is,  desire  of  power.  For 
riches,  knowledge,  and  honour,  are  but  several  sorts  of 
power. 

And  therefore,  a  man  who  has  no  great  passion  fof 
any  of  these  things;  but  is,  as  men  term  it,  indifferent; 
though  he  may  be  so  far  a  good  man,  as  to  be  free  from 
giving  offence;  yet  he  cannot  possibly  have  either  a 
great  fancy,  or  much  judgment.  For  the  thoughts  are 
to  the  desires,  as  scouts,  and  spies,  to  range  abroad,  and 
find  the  way  to  the  things  desired :  all  steadiness  of  the 
mind's  motion,  and  all  quickness  of  the  same,  proceed- 
ing from  thence :  for  as  to  have  no  desire,  is  to  be  dead : 
so  to  have  weak  passions,  is  dullness ;  and  to  have  pas- 
sions indifferently  for  everything,  giddiness^  and  dis- 
traction; and  to  have  stronger  and  more  vehement  pas- 
sions for  anything,  than  is  ordinarily  seen  in  others,  is 
that  which  men  call  madness^ 

Whereof  there  be  almost  as  many  kinds,  as  of  the 
passions  themselves.  Sometimes  the  extraordinary  and 
extravagant  passion,  proceedeth  from  the  evil  constitu- 
tion of  the  organs  of  the  body,  or  harm  done  them; 
and  sometimes  the  hurt,  and  indisposition  of  the  organs, 

such  as  are  imaginations  of  honour  and  glory,  which,  as  I  have 
said  before,  have  respect  to  the  future:  for  sensuality  consisteth 
in  the  pleasure  of  the  senses,  which  please  only  for  the  present, 
and  take  away  the  inclination  to  observe  such  things  as  conduce 
to  honour,  and  consequently  maketh  men  less  curious,  and  less 
ambitious,  whereby  they  less  consider  the  way  either  to  knowl- 
edge or  other  power;  in  which  two  consisteth  all  the  excellency 
of  power  cognitive.  And  this  is  it  which  men  call  dullness,  and 
proceedeth  from  the  appetite  of  sensual  or  bodily  delight. 
And  It  may  well  be  conjectured  that  such  passion  hath  its  be- 
gmnmg  from  a  grossness  and  difficulty  of  the  motion  of  the  spir- 
it about  the  heart.'' 


f 


ii  caused  by  the  vehemence,  or  long  continuance  of  the 
passion.    But  in  both  cases  the  madness  is  of  one  and 

the  same  nature. 

The  passion,  whose  violence,  or  continuance,  maketh 
madness,  is  either  great  vain-glory;  which  is  commonly 
called  pride,  and  self -conceit ;  or  great  dejection  of  mind. 

Pride,  subjecteth  a  man  to  anger,  the  excess  where- 
of, is  the  madness  called  RAGE^and  fury.  And  thus  it 
comes  to  pass  that  excessive  desire  of  revenge,  when  it 
becomes  habitual,  hurteth  the  organs,  and  becomes  rage : 
that  excessive  love,  with  jealousy,  becomes  also  rage: 
excessive  opinion  of  a  man's  own  self,  for  divine  inspir- 
ation, for  wisdom,  learning,  form  and  the  like,  becomes 
distraction  and  giddiness:  the  same,  joined  with  envy, 
rage:  vehement  opinion  of  the  truth  of  anything,  con- 
tradicted by  others,  rage. 

Dejection  subjects  a  man  to  causeless  fears;  which  5^^+^^ 

is  a  madness,  commonly  called  melancholy  ;  apparent  ^*  *^ 
also  in  divers  manners;  as  in  haunting  of  solitudes 
and  graves;  in  superstitious  behaviour;  and  in  fearing, 
some  one,  some  another  particular  thing.  In  sum,  all 
passions  that  produce  strange  and  unusual  behaviour, 
are  called  by  the  general  name  of  madness.  But  of  the 
several  kinds  of  madness,  he  that  would  take  the  pains, 
might  enrol  a  legion.  And  if  the  excesses  be  madness, 
there  is  no  doubt  but  the  passiais  themselves,  when 
they  tend  to  evil,  are  degrees  of  the  same. 

For  example,  though  the  effect  of  folly,  in  them  that 
are  possessed  of  an  opinion  of  being  inspired,  be  not 
visible  always  in  one  man,  by  any  very  extravagant  ac- 
tion, that  proceedeth  from  such  passion ;  yet,  when  many 
of  them  conspire  together,  the  rage  of  the  whole  multi- 
tude is  visible  enough.  For  what  argument  of  madness 
can  there  be  greater,  than  to  clamour,  strike,  and  throw 


Ii 


i86 


-  LEVIATHAN 


INTELLECTUAL  VIRTUES 


187 


stones  at  our  best  friends?  Yet  this  is  somewhat  less' 
than  such  a  multitude  will  do.  For  they  will  clamour, 
fight  against,  and  destroy  those,  by  whom  all  their  life- 
time before,  they  have  been  protected,  and  secured  from 
injury.  And  if  this  be  madness  in  the  multitude,  it  is 
the  same  in  every  particular  man.  For  as  in  the  midst  of 
the  sea,  though  a  man  perceive  no  sound  of  that  part 
of  the  water  next  him,  yet  he  is  well  assured,  that  part 
contributes  as  much  to  the  roaring  of  the  sea,  as  any  oth- 
er part  of  the  same  quantity;  so  also,  though  we  per- 
ceive no  great  unquietness  in  one  or  two  men,  yet  we 
may  be  well  assured,  that  their  singular  passions,  are 
parts  of  the  seditious  roaring  of  a  troubled  nation.  And 
if  there  were  nothing  else  that  bewrayed  their  madness ; 
yet  that  very  arrogating  such  inspiration  to  themselves, 
is  argument  enough.  If  some  man  in  Bedlam  should 
entertain  you  with  sober  discourse;  and  you  desire  in 
taking  leave,  to  know  what  he  were,  that  you  might 
another  time  requite  his  civility ;  and  he  should  tell  you, 
he  were  God  the  Father;  I  think  you  need  expect  no 
extravagant  action  for  argimient  of  his  madness. 

This  opinion  of  inspiration,  called  commonly,  private 
spirit,  begins  very  often,  from  some  lucky  finding  of  an 
error  generally  held  by  others ;  and  not  knowing,  or  not 
remembering,  by  what  conduct  of  reason,  they  came  to 
so  singular  a  truth,  (as  they  think  it,  though  it  be 
many  times  an  untruth  they  light  on)  they  presently 
admire  themselves,  as  being  in  the  special  grace  of  God 
Almighty,  who  hath  revealed  the  same  to  them  super- 
naturally,  by  his  Spirit. 

Again,  that  madness  is  nothing  else,  but  too  much 
appearing  passion,  may  be  gathered  out  of  the  effects 
of  wine,  which  are  the  same  with  those  of  the  evil  dis- 
position of  the  organs.     For  the  variety  of  behaviour 


in  men  that  have  drunk  too  much,  is  the  same  with  that 
of  madmen :  some  of  them  raging,  others  loving,  others 
laughing,  all  extravagantly,  but  according  to  their  sever- 
al domineering  passions :  for  the  effect  of  the  wine,  docs 
but  remove  dissimulation,  and  take  from  them  the  sight 
of  the  deformity  of  their  passions.  For,  I  believe,  the 
most  sober  men,  when  they  walk  alone  without  care  and 
employment  of  the  mind,  would  be  unwilling  the  vanity 
and  extravagance  of  their  thoughts  at  that  time  should 
be  publicly  seen;  which  is  a  confession,  that  passions 
unguided,  are  for  the  most  part  mere  madness. 

The  opinions  of  the  world,  both  in  ancient  and  later 
ages,  concerning  the  cause  of  madness,  have  been  two. 
Some  deriving  them  from  the  passions;  some,  from  de- 
mons, or  spirits,  either  good  or  bad,  which  they  thought 
might  enter  into  a  man,  possess  him,  and  move  his  organs 
in  such  strange  and  uncouth  manner,  as  madmen  use  to  do. 
The  former  sort  therefore,  called  such  men,  madmen :  but 
the  latter,  called  them  sometimes  demoniacs,  that  is,  pos- 
sessed with  spirits;  sometimes  enurgumeni,th2it  is,agitated 
or  moved  with  spirits ;  and  now  in  Italy  they  are  called, 
not  only  pazci,  madmen;  but  also  spiritati,  men  pos- 
sessed. 

There  was  once  a  great  conflux  of  people  in  Abdera, 
a  city  of  the  Greeks,  at  the  acting  of  the  tragedy  of  An- 
dromeda, upon  an  extreme  hot  day;  whereupon,  a  great 
many  of  the  spectators  falling  into  fevers,  had  this  ac- 
cident from  the  heat,  and  from  the  tragedy  together, 
that  they  did  nothing  but  pronounce  iambics,  with  the 
names  of  Perseus  and  Andromeda;  which,  together  with 
the  fever,  was  cured  by  the  coming  on  of  winter;  and 
this  madness  was  thought  to  proceed  from  the  passion 
imprinted  by  the  tragedy.  Likewise  there  reigned  a  fit 
of  madness  in  another  Grecian  city,  which  seized  only  the 


^  tVV^Vv^<5 


i88 


LEVIATHAN 


young  maidens;  and  caused  many  of  them  to  hang 
themselves.  This  was  by  most  then  thought  an  act  of 
the  Devil.  But  one  that  suspected,  that  contempt  of  life 
in  them,  might  proceed  from  some  passion  of  the  mind, 
and  supposing  that  they  did  not  contemn  also  their  hon- 
our, gave  counsel  to  the  magistrates,  to  strip  such  as  so 
hanged  themselves,  and  let  them  hang  out  naked.  This* 
the  story  says,  cured  that  madness.  But  on  the  other* 
side,  the  same  Grecians,  did  often  ascribe  madness  to 
the  operation  of  Eumenides,  or  Furies;  and  some- 
times of  Ceres,  Phoebus,  and  other  gods;  so  much  did 
men  attribute  to  phantasms,  as  to  think  them  aereal  liv- 
ing bodies;  and  generally  to  call  them  spirits.  And  as 
the  Romans  in  this,  held  the  same  opinion  with  the 
Greeks,  so  also  did  the  Jews;  for  they  called  madmeri 
prophets,  or,  according  as  they  thought  the  spirits  good 
or  bad,  demoniacs;  and  some  of  them  called  both  proph- 
ets and  demoniacs,  madmen;  and  some  called  the  same 
man  both  demoniac,  and  madman.  But  for  the  Gentiles 
it  is  no  wonder,  because  diseases  and  health,  vices  and 
virtues,  and  many  natural  accidents,  were  with  them 
termed,  and  worshipped  as  demons.  So  that  a  man  was 
to  understand  by  demon,  as  well,  sometimes  an  ague, 
as  a  devil.  But  for  the  Jews  to  have  such  opinion,  is 
somewhat  strange.  For  neither  Moses  nor  Abraham 
pretended  to  prophecy  by  possession  of  a  spirit;  but 
from  the  voice  of  God;  or  by  a  vision  or  dream:  nor 
is  there  anything  in  his  law,  moral  or  ceremonial,  by 
which  they  were  taught,  there  was  any  such  enthusiasm, 
or  any  possession.  When  God  is  said,  (Numb.  xi.  25) 
to  take  from  the  spirit  that  was  in  Moses,  and  give  to 
the  seventy  elders,  the  Spirit  of  God  (taking  it  for  the 
substance  of  God)  is  not  divided.  The  Scriptures,  by 
the  Spirit  of  God  in  man,  mean  a  man's  spirit,  inclined 


INTELLECTUAL  VIRTUES 


189. 


to  godliness.     And  where  it  is  said,   {Exod.  xxiii.  8) 
**whoni  I  have  filled  with  the  spirit  of  wisdom  to  make, 
garments  for  Aaron/*  is  not  meant  a  spirit  put  into 
them,  that  can  make  garments,  but  the  wisdom  of  their 
own  spirits  in  that  kind  of  work.    In  the  like  sense,  the 
spirit  of  man,  when  it  produceth  unclean  actions,  is  ordin- . 
arily  called  an  unclean  spirit,  and  so  other  spirits,  though 
not  always,  yet  as  often  as  the  virtue  or  vice  so  styled, 
is  extraordinary,  and  eminent.     Neither  did  the  other 
prophets  of  the  old  Testament  pretend  enthusiasm;  or, 
that  God  spake  in  them;  but  to  them,  by  voice,  vision, 
or  dream ;  and  the  burthen  of  the  Lord  was  not  posses- 
sion, but  command.    How  then  could  the  Jews  fall  into 
this  opinion  of  possession?     I  can  imagine  no  reason, 
but  that  which  is  common  to  all  men ;  namely,  the  want 
ot  curiosity  to  search  natural  causes:  and  their  placing 
felicity  in  the  acquisition  of  the  gross  pleasures  of  the 
senses,  and  the  things  that  most  immediately  conduce 
thereto.     For  they  that  see  any  strange,  and  unusual 
ability,  or  defect,  in  a  man's  mind ;  unless  they  see  with- 
al, from  what  cause  it  may  probably  proceed,  can  hardly 
think  it  natural ;  and  if  not  natural,  they  must  needs  think 
it  supernatural;    and     then     what     can     it     be,     but 
that   either   God   or   the   Devil     is     in     him?       And 
hence  it  came  to  pass,  when  our  Saviour  (Mark  iii.  21) 
was  compassed  about  with  the  multitude,  those  of  the 
house  doubted  he  was  mad,  and  went  out  to  hold  him: 
but  the  Scribes  said  he  had  Beelzebub,  and  that  was  it, 
by  which  he  cast  out  devils;  as  if  the  greater  madman 
had  awed  the  lesser:  and  that  iJohn  x.  20)  some  said, 
he  hath  a  devil,  and  is  mad;  whereas  others  holding 
him  for  a  prophet,  said,  these  are  not  the  words  of  one 
that  hath  a  devil.    So  in  the  old  Testament  he  that  came 
to  anoint  Jehu,   (2  Kings  ix.   11)   was  a  prophet;  but 


I^ 


LEVIATHAN 


some  of  the  company  asked  Jehu,  what  came  that  mcd- 
man  for?  So  that  in  sum,  it  is  manifest,  that  whoso- 
ever behaved  himself  in  extraordinary  manner,  was 
thought  by  the  Jews  to  be  possessed  either  with  a  good, 
or  evil  spirit ;  except  by  the  Sadducees,  who  erred  so  far 
on  the  other  hand,  as  not  to  believe  there  were  at  all  any 
spirits,  which  is  very  near  to  direct  atheism ;  and  thereby 
perhaps  the  more  provoked  others  to  term  such  men 
demoniacs,  rather  than  madmen. 

But  why  then  does  our  Saviour  proceed  in  the  cur- 
ing of  them,  as  if  they  were  possessed;  and  not  as  if  they 
were  mad?  To  which  I  can  give  no  other  kind  6f 
answer,  but  that  which  is  given  to  those  that  urge  the 
Scripture  in  like  manner  against  the  opinion  of  the 
motion  of  the  earth.  The  Scripture  was  written  to 
shew  unto  men  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  to  prepare 
their  minds  to  become  his  obedient  subjects ;  leaving 
the  world,  and  the  philosophy  thereof,  to  the  disputa- 
tion of  men,  for  the  exercising  of  their  natural  reason. 
Whether  the  earth's,  or  sun's  motion  make  the  day,  and 
night;  or  whether  the  exorbitant  actions  of  men,  pro- 
ceed from  passion,  or  from  the  devil,  so  we  worship 
him  not,  it  is  all  one,  as  to  our  obedience,  and  subjection 
to  God  Almighty ;  which  is  the  thing  for  which  the 
Scripture  was  written.  As  for  that  our  Saviour  speak- 
eth  to  the  disease,  as  to  a  person ;  it  is  the  usual  phrase 
of  ail  that  cure  by  words  only,  as  Christ  did,  and  en- 
chanters pretend  to  do,  whether  they  speak  to  a  devil 
or  not.  For  is  not  Christ  also  said  {Matt.  viii.  26)  to 
have  rebuked  the  winds?  Is  not  he  said  also  {Luke 
iv.  39)  to  rebuke  a  fever?  Yet  this  does  not  argue  that  a 
fever  is  a  devil.  And  whereas  many  of  the  devils  are 
said  to  confess  Christ;  it  is  not  necessary  to  interpret 
those  places  otherwise,  than  that  those  madmen  confessed 


INTELLECTUAL  VIRTUES 


igi 


him.  And  whereas  our  Saviour  {Matt.  xii.  43)  speak- 
eth  of  an  unclean  spirit,  that  having  gone  out  of  a  man, 
wandereth  through  dry  places,  seeking  rest,  and  findmg 
none,  and  returning  into  the  same  man,  with  seven  oth- 
er spirits  worse  than  himself ;  it  is  manifestly  a  parable, 
alluding  to  a  man,  that  after  a  little  endeavour  to  quit 
his  lusts,  is  vanquished  by  the  strength  of  them;  and 
becomes  seven  times  worse  than  he  was.  So  that  I  see 
nothing  at  all  in  the  Scripture,  that  requireth  a  belief, 
that  demoniacs  were  any  other  thing  but  madmen. 

There  is  yet  another  fault  in  the  discourses  of  some 
men ;  which  may  also  be  numbered  amongst  the  sorts  of 
madness;  namely,  that  abuse  of  words,  whereof  I  have 
spoken  before  in  the  fifth  chapter,  bv  the  name  of  absurd- 
ity.   And  that  is,  when  men  speak  such  words,  as  put 
together,  have  in  them  no  signification  at  all;  but  are 
fallen  upon  by  some,  through  misunderstanding  of  the 
words  they  have  received,  and  repeat  by  rote ;  by  others 
from  intention  to  deceive  by  obscurity.     And  this  is  in- 
cident to  none  but  those,  that  converse  in  nnestJOns  o^ 
matters   incomprehensible,   as   the   School-men;     or    in 
questions  of  abstruse  philosophy.     The  common  sort  of 
men  seldom  speak  insignificantly,  and  are  therefore,  by 
those  other  egregious  persons  counted  idiots.    But  to  be 
assured  their  words  are  without  any  thing  correspond- 
ent to  them  in  the  mind,  there  would  need  some  exam- 
ples; which  if  any  man  require,  let  him  take  a  School- 
matt  in  his  hands  and  see  if  he  can  translate  any  one 
chapter  concerning  any  difficult  point,  as  the  Trinity; 
the    Deity;    the    nature    of    Christ;    transubstantiation ; 
free-will,  &c.  into  any  of  the  modern  tongues,  so  as  to 
make  the  same  intelligible;  or  into  any  tolerable  Latin, 
such  as  they  were  acquainted  withal,  that  lived  when 
the  Latin  tongue  was  vulgar.    What  is  the  meaning  of 


192 


LEVIATHAN 


these  words,  The  iirst  cause  does  not  necessarily  inHow 
anything  into  the  second,  by  force  of  the  essential  sub- 
ordination of  the  second  causes,  by  which  it  may  help 
it  to  work?  They  are  the  translation  of  the  title  of  the 
sixth  chapter  of  Suarez'  first  book,  Of  the  concourse, 
motion,  and  help  of  God.  When  men  write' whole  vol- 
umes of  such  stuff,  are  they  not  mad,  or  intend  to  make 
others  so?  And  particularly,  in  the  question  of  transub- 
stantiation ;  where  after  certain  words  spoken ;  they  that 
say,  the  whiten^w,  roundn^^^,  mdigmtude,  quali/y,  cor- 
ruptibili/y,  all  which  are  incorporeal,  &c.  go  out  of  the 
wafer,  into  the  body  of  our  blessed  Saviour,  do  they 
not  make  those  nesses,  tudes,  and  ties,  to  be  so  many 
spirits  possessing  his  body?  For  by  spirits,  they  mean 
always  things,  that  being  incorporeal,  are  nevertheless 
moveable  from  one  place  to  another.  So  that  this  kind 
of  absurdity,  may  rightly  be  numbered  amongst  the 
many  sorts  of  madness ;  and  all  the  time  that  guided  by 
clear  thoughts  of  their  worldly  lust,  they  forbear  dis- 
puting, or  writing  thus,  but  lucid  intervals.  And  thus 
much  of  the  virtues  and  defects  intellectual. 


N 


} 


^1 


r^ 


QHAPTERIX. 

OF  THE  SEVERAL  SUBJECTS  OF   KNOWLEDGE. 

There  are  of  knowledge  two  kinds ;  whereof  one  is  ( 


I 


knoudedge  of  fact:  the  other  knowledge  of  the^^'^^ 
quence  of  one  omrmation  to  mother.  The  forme  s 
nothing  else,  but  sense  and  memory  and  is  absolute 
knowledge;  as  when  we  see  a  fact  domg  or  remember 
it  done :  and  this  is  the  knowledge  required  m  a  witness. 
The  latter  is  called  science;  and  is  conditional;  as  when 
we  know,  that,  ./  the  figure  shown  be  a  circle,  then  any 
straight  line  through  the  center  shall  divide  U  xnto  two 
equal  parts.  And  this  is  the  knowledge  required  m  a 
philosopher;  that  is  to  say,  of  him  that  pretends  to  reas- 

oning.  .       „,,-.» 

nru.  .^pcf^r  nf  knoTi'ledcre  of  fact  is  called  history:^ 

WhTreof  there  be  two  sorts:  one  called  naturailitstory ; 
which  is  the  history  of  such  facts,  or  effects  of  nature, 
as  have  no  dependence  on  man's  will;  such  as  are  the 
histories  of  mmls,  plants,  animals,  regions,  and  the 
like.  The  other,  is  civil  history;  which  is  the  history 
of  the  voluntary  actions  of  men  in  commonwealths. 

The  registers  of  science,  are  such  books  as  contain 
the  demonstrations  of  consequences  of  one  affirmation, 
to  another ;  and  are  commonly  called  books  of  philos- 
ophy; whereof  the  sorts  are  many,  according  to  the 
diversity  of  the  matter;  and  may  be  divided  in  such 
manner  as  I  have  divided  them  in  the  following  table.^ 

•Compare  on  tSe  general  subject  0^'™<>?'>':;'8e  »»?  .*''*3=? 
Chapters  V  and  VII  of  Leviathan.  Also  PMosophtcalR^*- 
ments.  (M.  II,  iu).  "Wisdom  properly  so  called,  .s  nrthmg 
else  but  this:  the  perfect  knowledge  of  the  truth  mall  matUn 
whatsoever.  Which  being  derived  from  the  registers  and  records 
of  things;  and  that  as  it  were  through  the  conduit  of  certain 


m 


w 


LEVIATHAN 


Xoonqnencec  from  the  accideott  conmon  to  aB 
bodies  natqral;  which  are  gMoniity,  and  tmoUon, 


SUBJECTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE 


Conieqaences  from  quantity,  and  motion  i^<{^'fr^"^(f' { 
which  bcine  the  principles  or  first  foundation  of  philosophy.  < 
is  called  Philosophia  Prima,      >  ( 

(Consequen-     ("By  Fiifure 
ces     from 
quantity,' 
and    motion 
determined.  (^By  Number. 


SCIENCE, 
lat  li 

knowleoiTc 
o  f    conse- 
quences; 
which   is 
called  also 

PHIL080- 
»HY. 


Conseqaences 
from  the  ac- 
cidents  of 
bodies  natur- 
al: which  is 
called 

AL    P 
PHY, 


I 


PHYSICS 

or  conse 

?|uences' 
rom  qua- 
Mies, 


Consequences  from  the  qualities 
of  bodies  transient,  such  as  some 
times  appear,  some  times  vaoish, 
Meteorology 


Xonsequencesfrom  the 
qualities  of  the  stars. 


Conse- 

fiueoces 
rom  the 
qualities 
of  bodies 
Pertna* 
nent. 


Conseguences  of  the 
qualities  from  liquid 
bodies,  that  fill  the 
space  between  the 
stars;  such  as  are  the 
air,  or  substances 
ethereal. 


Consequences    from 
the  qualities   of   io-^ 
dies  terresHal. 


Consequences 
from  the  ac- 
cidents  of 
Politic  bodies; 
which  is  cal- 
led POLITICS, 
and  CIVIL 
philoSOPBT. 


ri.  Of  consequences  from  iixt  institution  of  Com- 
monwealths, to  the  rights  and  duties  of  the 
pody  Poltttc  ox  sovereign. 


Of  consequences  from  the  same,  to  the  duty 
and  right  of  the  sukfotis.  ^ 


Conse- 
quences 
from  mo- 
tion and 
quantity 
^determined 


Mathematics, 


I9S 

Philoso- 

phia 

Prima. 

Geometry. 
^Arithmetic 


Consequen- 
ces from  the 
motion,  and 
quantity    of 
bodies    in 

,  special. 


Consequences 
from      the 
motion   and. 
quantity  of 
tne      greater- 
parts  of   the 
world,     as 
the  earth  and 
stars. 


i  Astronomy. 
GHX»»HY. 


I 


Consequences    ( 

ial  kinds,  and j  Doctrine 
figures  of  I  weight, 
body.  L 


f  Science 
of  FnoinEbrs. 
Architecture 
i.  Navigation. 


Meteorology 


Consequences  from  the  light  of  the  stars.      Out  of  this,  an<l  I  SciOGRAPBY. 
the  motion  of  the  sun,  is  made  the  science  of     .    .    .    .    . ) 


^Consequences  from  the  influences  of  the  stars 


Astrology. 


fConse 


?uence8 
ro 


Consequences  from  the  qualities  of  minerals^  as 
stones,  metals,  &c. 

m  the 

parts  of 

the  earth,' 

that  are  I 

without]  ^         .  ..  .       ,         ^  Li 

sense.  ^Consequences  from  the  qualities  of  vegetaoies, 

(Consequen-  fConsequences  from  vision.  .  . 
ces  from  the  Consequences  from  sounds,  ,  . 
qualities    of-|  :         ..  ^     . 

animals    in  I  Consequences  from  the  rest  of 


Optics. 
Music 


Conse- 

?[uences 
rom     the 
qualities 
.  ol  animals 


geturcU. 


the  senses. 


fConsequences  from  the  passions  )  •£,Ymc^ 
of  men ) 


Consequen- 
ces from  the 
qualities    of 
men  in  spec- 

.  ial. 


Consequences 
from    speech. 


^'^'^^^!Z\\l^^^'': 


In  persuading. 

In     reasoning, 

Jn  contracting. 


Rhetoric. 
Logic. 

The  Science  of 
Just  and   Un- 
just. 


CHAPTER  X. 


OF    POWER,    WORTH,    DIGNITY,    HONOUR,    AND 

WORTHINESS. 

The  power  of  a  man,  to  take  it  universally,  is  his  pres- 
ent means;  to  obtain  some  future  apparent  good;  and 
is  either  original  or  instrumental. 

Natural  power,  is  the  eminence  of  the  faculties  of 
body,  or  mind:  as  extraordinary  strength,  form,  pru- 
dence, arts,  eloquence,  liberality,  nobility.  Instrumental 
are  those  powers,  which  acquired  by  these,  or  by  fortune, 
are  means  and  instruments  to  acquire  more:  as  riches, 
reputation,  friends,  and  the  secret  working  of  God, 
which  men  call  good  luck.  For  the  nature  of  power, 
is  in  this  point,  like  to  fame,  increasing  as  it  proceeds; 
or  like  the  motion  of  heavy  bodies,  which  the  further 
they  go,  make  still  the  more  haste. 

The  ^eatest  of  hitman  po^YPrs,  ^s  \\^:\\  wM^^  ^'°  ^^"^- 
pQunded  of  the  powers  of  most  men^  imited  bv  consent, 
in  one  person,  natural,  or  civil,  that  has  the  use  of  all 
their  powers  depending  on  his  will ;  such  as  is  the  power 

definite  appelations;  cannot  possibly  be  the  work  of  a  sudden 
acuteness,  but  of  a  well-balanced  reason;  which  by  the  com- 
pendium of  a  word,  we  call  philosophy.  For  by  this  it  is  that  a 
way  is  open  to  us,  in  which  we  travel  from  the  contemplation 
of  particular  things  to  the  inference  or  result  of  universal  ac- 
tions. Now  look,  how  many  sorts  of  things  there  are,  which 
properly  fall  within  the  cognizance  of  human  reason;  into  so 
many  branches  does  the  tree  of  philosophy  divide  itself.  And 
from  the  diversity  of  the  matter  about  which  they  are  conversant, 
there  hath  been  given  to  those  branches  a  diversity  of  names  too. 
For  treating  of  figures,  it  is  called  geometry;  of  motion,  physic; 
of  natural  right,  morals;  put  altogether,  and  they  make  up  phil- 
osophy. Just  as  the  British,  the  Atlantic,  and  the  Indian  seas, 
being  diversely  christened  from  the  diversity  of  their  shores,  do 
notwithstanding  all  together  make  uo  the  ocean." 


OF  POWER,  WORTH,  DIGNITY.  ETC.  197 

Of  a  common-wealth :  or  depending  on  the  wills  of  each 
r;ji^;nS?Tl^iarinrthe  power  of  a  faction  or  of  divers 
factions  leagued.  Therefore  tojiave  servants,  ig  cower ; 
to  have  friends,  is  power:  for  they  are  strengths  umted. 
Also  riches  joined  with  liberality,  is  power;  because 
it  procureth  friends,  and  servants :  without  liberality,  not 
so;  because  in  this  case  they  defend  not;  but  expose  men 

to  envy,  as  a  prey.  . 

Reputation  of  power,  is  power;  because  it  draweth 
with  it  the  adherence  of  those  that  need  protection. 

So  is  reputation  of  love  of  a  man's  country,  called 
popularity,  for  the  same  reason.  ^  '        , 

Also,  what  quality  soever  maketh  a  man  beloved,  or 
feared  of  many;  or  the  reputation  of  such  quality,  is 
power;  because  it  is  a  means  to  have  the  assistance,  and 

service  of  many. 

Good  success  is  power ;  because  it  maketh  reputation 
of  wisdom,  or  good  fortune;  which  makes  men  either 

fear  him,  or  rely  on  him.  ^ 

Affability  of  men  already  in  power,  is  increase  ot 

power;  because  it  gaineth  love. 

Reputation  of  prudence  in  the  conduct  of  peace  or 
war,  is  power;  because  to  prudent  men,  we  commit  the 
government  of  ourselves,  more  willingly  than  to  others. 

Nobility  is  power,  not  in  all  places,  but  only  in  those 
commonwealths,  where  it  has  privileges:  for  in  such 
privileges,  consisteth  their  power. 

Eloquence  is  power,  because  it  is  seeming  prudence. 

Form  is  power;  because  being  a  promise  of  good, 
it  recommendeth  men  to  the  favour    of    women    and 

strangers. 

The  sciences,  are  small  power:  because  not  emi- 
nent; and  therefore,  not  acknowledged  in  any  man ;  nor 
are  at  all,  but  in  a  few,  and  in  them,  but  of  a  few  things. 


198 


LEVIATHAN 


For  science  is  of  that  nature,  as  none  can  understand  it 
to  be,  but  such  as  in  a  good  measure  have  attained  it. 

Arts  of  public  use,  as  fortification,  making  of  engines, 
and  other  instruments  of  war;  because  they  confer  to 
defence,  and  victory,  are  power:  and  though  the  true 
mother  of  them,  be  science,  namely  the  mathematics ;  yet, 
because  they  are  brought  into  the  light,  by  the  hand 
of  the  artificer,  they  be  esteemed,  the  midwife  passing 
with  the  vulgar  for  the  mother,  as  his  issue. 

The  value,  or  worth  of  a  man^  is  as  of  all  other 
things,  his  price:  that  is  to  sav,  so  much  as  would  be 
given  for  the  use  of  his  i^Lwer :  and  therefore  is  not  ab- 


solute; but  a  thing  dependent  on  the  need  and  judgment 
of  another.  An  able  conductor  of  soldiers,  is  of  great 
price  in  time  of  war  present,  or  imminent ;  but  in  peace 
not  so.  A  learned  and  uncorrupt  judge,  is  much  worth 
in  time  of  peace ;  but  not  so  much  in  war.  And  as  in 
other  things,  so  in  men,  not  the  seller,  but  the  buyer  de- 
termines the  price.  For  let  a  man,  as  most  men  do,  rate 
themselves  at  the  highest  value  they  can ;  yet  their  true 
value  is  no  more  than  it  is  esteemed  by  others. 

The  manifestation  of  the  value  we  set  on  one  another, 
is  that  which  is  commonly  called  honouring,  and  dishon- 
OUving.  To  valu^  a  man  at  a  \^;^h  rate,  is  to  honnurjmri ; 
at  a  low  rate,  is  to  dishonour  him.  But  high,  and  low, 
in  this  case,  is  to  be  understood  by  comparison  to  the  rate 
that  each  man  setteth  on  himself.* 


Compare  Human  Nature,  (M.  IV.  37).  "Conception  of 
the  future,  is  but  a  supposition  of  the  same,  proceeding  from 
remembrance  of  what  is  past;  and  we  so  far  conceive  that  any- 
thmg  will  be  hereafPer,  as  we  know  there  is  something  at  the 
present  that  hath  power  to  produce  it:  and  that  anything  hath 
power  now  to  produce  another  thing  hereafter,  we  cannot  con- 
ceive, but  by  remembrance  that  it  hath  produced  the  like  hereto- 
fore. Wherefore  all  conception  of  future,  is  conception  of  power 
able  to  produce  something.   Whosoever  therefore  expecteth  pleas- 


OF  POWER,  WORTH,  DIGNITY,  ETC.  i^ 

ThepublicjiS^^ 
on  b.n;  ly  the  co^^^^i^  is  that  which  men  com- 
^^^X^o^itITM^^s  value  of  him  by  the  com- 
monweaith,  is  understood,  by  offices  of  command,  ^u^' 
cature,  public  employment;  or  by  names  and  titles,  mtro- 
duced  for  distinction  of  such  value. 

To  pray  to  another,  for  aid  of  any  kind,  is  to  hon- 
our ;  because  a  sign  we  have  an  opinion  he  has  power 
to  help;  and  the  more  difficult  the  aid  is,  the  more  is  the 

honour.  ,         ^u^^ 

To  obey,  is  to  honour,  because  no  man  obeys  them, 
whom  thev  think  have  no  power  to  help,  or  hurt  them. 
And  consequently  to  disobey,  is  to  dishonour. 

To  give  great  gifts  to  a  man,  is  to  honour  h.m;  be- 
c->use  it  is  buying  of  protection,  and  acknowledgmg  of 
power.  To  give  little  gifts,  is  to  dishonour;  because 
it  is  but  alms,  and  signifies  an  opinion  of  the  need  of 

small  helps.  ,      i      ♦„ 

To  be  sedulous  in  promoting  another  s  good ;  also  to 
i:atter,  is  to  honour;  as  a  sign  we  seek  his  protection  or 
aid.    To  neglect,  is  to  dishonour. 


lire  to  come,  must  conceive  withal  some  power  in  himself  by  which 
li:  same  m'ky  be  attained.  .  And  because  the  pass.ons   whereof  I 
am  to  speak  next,  consist  m  conception  of  the  *""«'     before  I 
tnv   in  conceotion  of  power  past,  and  the  act  to  come ,  oejore  ' 
go^ny  funhe     "mustin  the  next  place  sP"k  somewhat  con 
ferning  this  power.    By  this  power  I  mean  the  same  with  the  fac- 
uhies  of  the*^  body,   n^^tritive.    generative     moiwe     and    °f  'he 
mind   knowledge;  and  besides  these,  such  /"''.''•"^  P?*".?*  „^ 
hem'is  acquired,\L-.   riches,  place  o^authority    /r..«rf.fc.?  or 
favour,  and  good  fortune;  whtch  last  is  really  nothmg  else  but 
he  favour  of  God  Almighty.     The  i""'--?""  °«  '\\\'  "l.X" 
potencies,  infirmities,  or  defects  of  the  ?a'd  P°""' .^n'^rfth  the 
^nd  because  the  power  of  one  man  resisteth  and  hmdereth  the 
effects  of  the  power  of  another,  pow^r  simply  '*  "°  ";°!*„°"; 
the  excess  of  the  power  of  one  above  that  of  another    for,*^?^^^ 
powers  opposed,  destroy  one  another ;  and  such  their  oppositioB 
is  called   contention." 


300 


LEVIATHAN 


To  give  way,  or  place  to  another,  in  any  commodity, 
is  to  honour;  being  a  confession  of  greater  power.  To 
arrogate,  is  to  dishonour. 
I  To  show  any  sign  of  love,  or  fear  of  another,  is  to 
I  honour;  for  both  to  love,  and  to  fear,  is  to  value.  To 
contemn,  or  less  to  love  or  fear,  than  he  expects,  is  to 
dishonour;  for  it  is  undervaluing. 

To  praise,  magnify,  or  call  happy,  is  to  honour ;  be- 
cause nothing  but  goodness,  power,  and  felicity  is  valued. 
To  revile,  mock,  or  pity,  is  to  dishonour. 

To  speak  to  another  with  consideration,  to  appear  be- 
fore him  with  decency,  and  humility,  is  to  honour  him; 
as  signs  of  fear  to  oifend.  To  speak  to  him  rashly,  to 
do  any  thing  before  him  obscenely,  slovenly,  impudently, 
is  to  dishonour. 

To  believe,  to  trust,  to  rely  on  another,  is  to  honour 
him ;  sign  of  opinion  of  his  virtue  and  power.  To  dis- 
trust, or  not  believe,  is  to  dishonour. 

To  hearken  to  a  man's  counsel,  or  discourse  of  what 
kind  soever  is  to  honour;  as  a  sign  we  think  him  wise, 
or  eloquent,  or  witty.  To  sleep,  or  go  forth,  or  talk 
the  while,  is  to  dishonour. 

To  do  those  things  to  another,  which  he  takes  for 
signs  of  honour,  or  which  the  law  or  custom  makes  so- 
is  to  honour ;  because  in  approving  the  honour  done  by 
others,  he  acknowledgeth  the  power  which  others  ac- 
knowledge.    To  refuse  to  do  them,  is  to  dishonour. 

To  agree  with  in  opinion,  is  to  honour;  as  being  a 
sign  of  approving  his  judgment,  and  wisdom.  Tc  dis- 
sent, is  dishonour,  and  an  upbraiding  of  error;  and, 
if  the  dissent  be  in  many  things,  of  folly. 

To  imitate,  is  to  honour ;  for  it  is  vehemently  to  ap- 
prove.   To  imitate  one's  enemy,  is  to  dishonour.  ^ 

To  honour  those  another  honours,  is  to  honour  him ; 


1 


i 


OF  POWER.  WORTH.  DIGNITY.  ETC. 


201 


as  a  sign  of  approbation  of  his  judgment.    To  honour 
his  enemies,  is  to  dishonour  him. 

To  employ  in  counsel,  or  in  actions  of  difficulty,  is 
to  honour;  as  a  sign  of  opinion  of  his  wisdom,  or  other 
power.  To  deny  employment  in  the  same  cases,  to  those 
that  seek  it,  is  to  dishonour. 

All  these  ways  of  honouring,  are  natural;  and  as 
well  within,  as  without  commonwealths.  But  in  com- 
monwealths, where  he,  or  they  that  have  the  supreme 
authority,  can  make  whatsoever  they  please,  to  stand  for 
signs  of  honour,  there  be  other  honours. 

A  sovereign  doth  honour  a  subject,  with  whatso- 
ever title,  or  office,  or  employment,  or  action,  that  he 
himself  will  have  taken  for  a  sign  of  his  will  to  honour 

him.  .  , 

The   king  of   Persia,   honoured   Mordecai,   when   he 
appointed  he  should  be  conducted  through  the  streets 
in  the  king's  garment,  upon  one  of  the  king's  horses, 
with  a  crown  on  his  head,  and  a  prince  before  him,  pro- 
claiming, thus  shall  it  be  done  to  him  that  the  king  will 
honour.     And  yet  another  king  of  Persia,  or  the  same 
another  time,  to  one  that  demanded  for  some  great  serv- 
ice, to  wear  one  of  the  king's  robes,  gave  him  leave  so 
to  do ;  but  with  this  addition,  that  he  should  wear  it  as 
the  king's  fool ;  and  then  it  was"  dishonour.    So  that  of 
civil  honour,  the  fountain  is  in  the  person  of  the  com- 
monwealth, and  dependeth  on  the  will  of  the  sovereign ; 
and  is   therefore   temporary,   and   called   civil  honour; 
such  as  magistracy,  offices,  titles;  and  in  some  places 
coats  and    scutcheons   painted :    and    men    honour  such 
as  have  them,  as  having  so  many  signs  of  favour  in  the 
commonwealth;  which  favour  is  power. 

Honourable  is  whatsoever  possession,  action,  or  qual- 
ity, is  an  argument  and  sign  of  power. 


I 


:|iil 


202 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  POWER,  WORTH,  DIGNITY,  ETC. 


»S 


f^^ifCO  ^      And  therefore  to  be  honoured,  loved,  or  feared  of 
^'/^j^many,  is  honourable;  as  arguments  of  power.     To  be 
^  honoured  of  few  or  none,  dishonourable. 

Dominion,  and  victory  is  honourable;  because  ac- 
quired by  power ;  and  servitude,  for  need,  or  fear,  is  dis- 
honourable. 

(Good  fortune,  if  lasting,  honourable ;  as  a  sign  of  the 
favour  of  God.  Ill  fortune,  and  losses,  dishonourable. 
Riches^  are  honourable ;  for  thev  i^rr  pr^^^^«--  Poverty, 
dishonourable.  Magnanimity,  liberalty,  hope,  courage, 
confidence,  are  honourable;  for  they  proceed  from  the 
conscience  of  power.  Pusillanimity,  parsimony,  fear, 
diffidence,  are  dishonourable. 

Timely  resolution,  or  determination  of  what  a  man 
is  to  do,  is  honourable ;  as  being  the  contempt  of  small 
difficulties,  and  dangers.  And  irresolution,  dishonour- 
able ;  as  a  sign  of  too  much  valuing  of  little  impediments, 
and  little  advantages:  for  when  a  man  has  weighed 
things  as  long  as  the  time  permits,  and  resolves  not, 
the  difference  of  weight  is  but  little ;  and  therefore  if  he 
resolve  not,  he  overvalues  little  things,  which  is  pusillan- 
imity. 

All  actions,  and  speeches,  that  proceed,  or  seem  to 
proceed,  from  much  experience,  science,  discretion,  or 
wit,  are  honourable;  for  all  these  are  powers.  Actions, 
or  words  that  proceed  from  error,  ignorance,  or  folly, 
dishonourable. 

Gravity,  as  far  forth  as  it  seems  to  proceed  from  a 
mind  employed  on  something  else,  is  honourable;  be- 
cause employment  is  a  sign  of  power.  But  if  it  seem  to 
proceed  from  a  purpose  to  appear  grave,  it  is  dishon- 
ourable. For  the  gravity  of  the  former,  is  like  the  stead- 
iness of  a  ship  laden  with  merchandise ;  but  of  the  latter, 
like  the  steadiness  of  a  ship  ballasted  with  sand,  and  oth- 
er trash. 


To  be  conspicuous,  that  is  to  say,  to  be  known,  for 
wealth,  office,  great  actions,  or  any  eminent  good,  is 
honourable ;  as  a  sign  of  the  power  for  which  he  is  con- 
spicuous.    On  the  contrarv.  obscuritv.  is  dishonourable. 

To  be  descended  from  conspicuous  parents,  is  hon- 
ourable; because  they  the  more  easily  attain  the  aids, 
and  friends  of  their  ancestors.     On  the  contrary,  to^ 

Actions  proceeding  from  equity,  joined  with  loss, 
are  honourable;  as  signs  of  magnanimity:  for  magna- 
nimity is  a  sign  of  power.  On  the  contrary,  craft,  shift- 
ing, neglect  of  equity,  is  dishonourable. 

Covetousness  of  great  riches,  and  ambition  of  great 
honours,  are  honourable;  as  signs  of  power  to  obtain 
them.  Covetousness,  and  ambition,  of  little  gains,  or 
preferments,  is  dishonourable. 

Nor  does  it  alter  the  case  of  honour,  whether  an  ac- 
tion, so  it  be  great  and  difficult,  and  consequently  a  sign 
of  much  power,  be  just  or  unjust:  for  honour  consisteth 
only  in  the  opinion  of  power.  Therefore  the  ancient 
"heathen  did  not  think  they  dishonoured,  but  greatly 
honoured  the  Gods,  when  they  introduced  them  in  their 
poems,  committing  rapes,  thefts,  and  other  great,  but 
unjust,  or  unclean  acts :  insomuch  as  nothing  is  so  much 
celebrated  in  Jupiter,  as  his  adulteries;  nor  in  Mercury, 
as  his  frauds,  and  thefts :  of  whose  praises,  in  a  hymn  of 
Homer,  the  greatest  is  this,  that  being  bom  in  the  morn- 
ing, he  had  invented  music  at  noon,  and  before  night, 
stolen  away  the  cattle  of  Apollo,  from  his  herdsmen. 

Also  amongst  men,  till  there  were  constituted  g^eat 
commonwealths,  it  was  thought  no  dishonour  to  be  a 
pirate,  or  a  highway  thief;  but  rather  a  lawful  trade, 
not  only  amongst  the  Greeks,  but  also  amongst  all  other 
nations;  as  is  manifest  by  the  histories  of  ancient  time. 


904 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  POWER,  WORTH.  DIGNITY,  ETC. 


20$ 


And  at  this  day,  in  this  part  of  the  world,  private  duels 
are,  and  always  will  be  honourable,  though  unlawful, 
till'such  time  as  there  shall  be  honour  ordained  for  them 
that  refuse,  and  ignominy  for  them  that  make  the  chal- 
lenge. For  duels  also  are  many  times  effects  of  courage ; 
and  the  ground  of  courage  is  always  strength  or  skill, 
which  are  power;  though  for  the  most  part  they  be 
effects  of  rash  speaking,  and  of  the  fear  of  dishonour, 
in  one,  or  both  the  combatants;  who  engaged  by  rash- 
ness, are  driven  into  the  lists  to  avoid  disgrace. 

Scutcheons,  and  coats  of  arms  hereditary,  where  they 
have  any  eminent  privileges,  are  honourable;  otherwise 
not :  for  their  power  consisteth  either  in  such  privileges, 
or  in  riches,  or  some  such  thing  as  is  equally  honoured 
in  other  men.     This  kind  of  honour,  commonly  called 
gentry,  hath  been   derived   from   the  ancient  Germans. 
For  there  never  was  any  such  thing  known,  where  the 
German  customs  were  unknown.     Nor  is  it  now  any 
where  in  use,  where  the  Germans  have  not  inhabited. 
The  ancient  Greek  commanders,  when  they  went  to  war, 
had   their   shields   painted   with   such    devices   as   they 
pleased ;  insomuch  as  an  unpainted  buckler  was  a  sign  of 
poverty,  and  of  a  common  soldier;  but  they  transmitted 
not  the  inheritance  of  them.     The  Romans  transmitted 
the  marks  of  their  families:  but  they  were  the  images, 
not  the  devices  of  their  ancestors.     Amongst  the  people 
of  Asia,  Africa,  and  America,  there  is  not,  nor  was  ever, 
any  such  thing.     The  Germans  only  had  that  custom; 
from  whom  it  has  been  derived  into  England,  France, 
Spain,   and   Italy,   when   in   great   numbers   they   either 
aided  the  Romans,  or  made  their  own  conquests  in  these 
western  parts  of  the  world. 

For  Germany,  being  anciently,  as  all  other  countries, 
in  their  beginning:s,   divided  amongst  an  infinite  num- 


ber of  little  lords,  or  masters  of  families,  that  contin- 
ually had  wars  one  with  another ;  those  masters,  or  lords, 
principally  to  the  end  they  might,  when  they  were  cov- 
ered with  arms,  be  known  by  their  followers ;  and  part^ 
ly  for  ornament,  both  painted  their  armour,  or  their 
scutcheon,  or  coat,  with  the  picture  of  some  beast,  or 
other  thing ;  and  also  put  some  eminent  and  visible  mark 
upon  the  crest  of  their  helmets.  And  this  ornament  both 
of  the  arms,  and  crest,  descended  by  inheritance  to  their 
children;  to  the  eldest  pure,  and  to  the  rest  with  some! 
note  of  diversity,  such  as  the  old  master,  that  is  to  say 
in  Dutch,  the  Here-alt  thought  fit.  But  when  many  such 
families,  joined  together,  made  a  greater  monarchy,  this 
duty  of  the  Herealt,  to  distinguish  scutcheons,  was  made 
a  private  office  apart.  And  the  issue  of  these  lords,  is  the 
great  and  ancient  gentry;  which  for  the  most  part  bear 
living  creatures,  noted  for  courage,  and  rapine;  or  cas- 
tles, battlements,  belts,  weapons,  bars,  palisadoes,  and 
other  notes  of  war;  nothing  being  then  in  honour,  but 
virtue  military.  Afterwards,  not  only  kings,  but  pop- 
ular commonwealths,  gave  divers  manners  of  scutcheons, 
to  such  as  went  forth  to  the  war,  or  returned  from  it, 
for  encouragement,  or  recompense  to  their  service.  All 
which,  by  an  observing  reader,  may  be  found  in  such' 
ancient  histories,  Greek  and  Latin,  as  make  mention  of 
the  German  nation  and  manners,  in  their  times. 

Titles  of  honour,  such  as  are  duke,  count,  marquis, 
and  baron,  are  honourable;  as  signifying  the  value  set 
upon  them  by  the  sovereign  power  of  the  commonwealth : 
which  titles,  were  in  old  time  titles  of  office,  and  com- 
mand, derived  some  from  the  Romans,  some  from  the 
Germans  and  French :  dukes,  in  Latin  duces,  being  gen- 
erals in  war:  counts,  comites,  such  as  bear  the  general 
company  out  of  friendship,  and  were  left  to  govern  and 


-^1 


906 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  POWER,  WORTH,  DIGNITY.  ETC. 


«7 


defend  places  conquered,  and  pacified:  marquises,  mar- 
chiones,   were   counts   that   governed   the   marches,   or 
bounds  of  the  empire.    Which  titles  of  duke,  count,  and 
marquis,  came  into  the  empire,  about  the  time  of  Con- 
stantine  the  Great,  from  the  customs  of  the  German  mil- 
itia.      But  baron,  seems  to  have  been  a  title  of  the  Gauls, 
and  signifies  a  great  man;  such  as  were  the  king's,  or 
prince's  men,  whom  they  employed  in  war  about  their 
persons;  and  seems  to  be  derived  from  vir,  to  her,  and 
bar,  that  signified  the  same  in  the  language  of  the  Gauls, 
that  vir  in  Latin;  and  thence  to  hero,  and  haro:  so  that 
such  men  were  called  herones,  and  after  barones;  and, 
in  Spanish,  varones.     But  he  that  would  know  more 
particularly  the  original  of  titles  of  honour,  may  find 
it,  as  I  have  done  this,   in   Mr.   Selden's  most  excel- 
lent treatise  of  that  subject.     In  process  of  time  these 
offices  of  honour,  by  occasion  of  trouble,  and  for  reasons 
of  good  and  peaceable  government,  were  turned  into 
mere  titles;  serving  for  the  most  part,  to  distinguish 
the  precedence,  place,  and  order  of  subjects  in  the  com- 
monwealth: and  men  were  made  dukes,  counts,  mar- 
quises, and  barons  of  places,  wherein  they  had  neither 
possession,  nor  command:  and  other  titles  also,  were 
devised  to  the  same  end. 

Worthiness,  is  a  thing  different  from  the  worth, 
or  value  of  a  man ;  and  also  from  his  merit,  or  desert,  and 
consisteth  in  a  particular  power,  or  ability  for  that, 
whereof  he  is  said  to  be  worthy:  which  particular  abil- 
ity, is  usually  named  fitness,  or  aptitude. 

For  he  is  worthiest  to  be  a  commander,  to  be  a  judge, 
or  to  have  any  other  charge,  that  is  best  fitted,  with  the . 
qualities    required   to   the   well   discharging  of   it;   and 
worthiest  of  riches,  that  has  the  qualities  most  requisite 
for  the  well  using  of  them :  any  of  which  qualities  being 


absent,  one  mav  nevertheless  be  a  worthy  man,  and  valu- 
able for  something  else.  Again,  a  man  may  be  worthy 
of  riches,  office,  and  employment,  that  nevertheless,  can 
plead  no  right  to  have  it  before  another;  and  therefore 
cannot  be  said  to  merit  or  deserve  it.  For  merit  pre- 
supposeth  a  right,  and  that  the  thing  deserved  is  due 
by  promise:  of  which  I  shall  say  more  hereafter,  when 
I  shall  speak  of  contracts. 


Hi 


tJ 


CHAPTER  XL 

OF  THE  DIFFERENCE  OF  MANNERS. 

By  manners,  I  mean  not  here,  decency  of  behaviour; 
as  how  one  should  salute  another,  or  how  a  man  should 
wash  his  mouth  or  pick  his  teeth  before  company,  and 
such  other  points  of  the  small  morals;  but  those  qualities 
of  mankind,  that  concern  their  livinof  togetherJiL^gace, 
and  unity.  To  which  end  we  are  to  consider,  that  theTe- 
Hcity  of  this  life,  consisteth  not  in  the  repose  of  a  mind 
satisfied.  For  there  is  no  such  finis  ultimus,  utmost  aim, 
nor  summum  bonum,  greatest  good,  as  is  spoken  of  in 
the  books  of  the  old  moral  philosophers.  Nor  can  a 
man  any  more  live,  whose  desires  are  at  an  end,  than  he, 
whose  senses  and  imaginations  are  at  a  stand.  Felicity 
is  a  continual  progress  of  the  desire,  from  one  object 
to  another ;  the  attaining  of  the  former,  being  still  but  the 
way  to  the  latter.  The  cause  whereof  is,  that  the  object 
of  man's  desire,  is  not  to  enjoy  once  only,  and  for  one  in- 
stant of  time ;  but  to  assure  forever,  the  way  of  his  fu- 
ture desire.  And  therefore  the  voluntary  actions,  and 
inclinations  of  all  men,  tend,  not  only  to  the  procuring, 
but  also  to  the  assuring  of  a  contented  life;  and  differ 
only  in  the  way :  which  ariseth  partly  from  the  diversity 
of  passions,  in  divers  men ;  and  partly  from  the  differ- 
ence of  the  knowledge,  or  opinion  each  one  has  of  the 
causes,  which  produce  the  effect  desired. 

(So  that  in  the  first  place,  j  put  for  a  general  inclina- 
tion of  all  mankind,  a  perpetual  and  restless  desire  jof 
power  after  power,  that  cea'seth  only  in  death.  And  the 
cause  of  this,  is  not  always  that  a  man  hopes  for  a  more 
intensive  delight,  than  he  has  already  attained  to ;  or  that 
he  cannot  be  content  with  a  moderate  power :  but  because 


O?   MANNERS 


WL 


he  cannot  assure  the  power  and  means  to  live  well,  which 
he  hath  present,  without  the  acquisition  of  more.  And 
from  hence  it  is,  that  kings,  whose  power  is  greatest, 
turn  their  endeavours  to  the  assuring  it  at  home  by  laws, 
or  abroad  by  wars :  and  when  that  is  done,  there  succeed- 
eth  a  new  desire ;  in  some,  of  fame  from  new  conquest ; 
in  others,  of  ease  and  sensual  pleasure;  in  others,  of 
admiration,  or  being  flattered  for  excellence  in  some  art, 
or  other  ability  of  the  mind.* 

Competition  of  riches,  honour,  command,  or  other 
power,  inclineth  to  contention,  enmity,  and  war :  because 
the  way  of  one  competitor,  to  the  attaining  of  his  desire, 
is  to  kill,  subdue,  supplant,  or  repel  the  other.  Particu- 
larly, competition  of  praise,  inclineth  to  a  reverence  of 
antiquity.  For  men  contend  with  the  living,  not  with 
the  dead;  to  these  ascribing  more  than  due,  that  they 
may  obscure  the  glory  of  the  other. 

Desire  of  ease,  and  sensual  delight,  disposeth  meO-iQ 
obey  a  common  power:  because  by  such  desires,  a  man 
HotlT  abandon  the  ^otection  that  might  be  hoped  for 
from  his  own  industry,  and  labour.  Fear  of  death, 
and  wounds,  disposeth  to  the  same;  and  for  the  same 


^Compare  Human  Nature,  (M.  IV,  33).  Seeing  all  de- 
light is  appetite,  and  presupposeth  a  further  end,  there  can  be 
no  contentment  but  in  proceeding:  and  therefore  we  are  not  to 
marvel,  when  wc  see.  that  as  men  attain  to  more  riches,  honour, 
or  other  power;  so  their  appetite  continually  groweth  more  and 
more;  and  when  they  are  come  to  the  utmost  degree  of  some 
kind  of  power,  they  pursue  some  other,  as  long  as  in  any  kind 
they  think  themselves  behind  any  other :  of  those  therefore  that 
have  attained  to  the  highest  degree  of  honour  and  riches,  some 
have  affected  mastery  in  some  art ;  as  Nero  in  music  and  poetry, 
Commodus  in  the  art  of  a  gladiator ;  and  such  as  affect  not  some 
such  thing,  must  find  diversion  and  recreation  of  their  thoughts 
in  the  contention  either  of  play  or  business:  and  men  justly  com- 
plain  of  a  great  grief,  that  they  know  not  what  to  do.  Feltctty, 
therefore,  by  which  we  mean  continual^  delight,  consisteth  not  in 
having  prospered,   but   in   prospering." 


aio 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  MANNERS 


lit 


reason.  On  the  contrary,  needy  men,  and  hardy,  not 
contented  with  their  present  condition;  as  also,  all  men 
that  are  ambitious  of  military  command,  are  inclined  to 
continue  the  causes  of  war;  and  to  stir  up  trouble  and 
sedition:  for  there  is  no  honour  military  but  by  war; 
nor  any  such  hope  to  mend  an  ill  game,  as  by  causing  a 
new  shuffle. 

Desire  of  knowledge,  and  arts  of  peace,  inclineth  men 
to  obey  a  common  power:  for  such  desire,  containeth 
a  desire  of  leisure;  and  consequently  protection  irom 
some  other  power  than  their  own. 

Desire  of  praise,  disposeth  to  laudable  actions,  such 
as  please  them  whose  judgment  they  value;  for  of  those 
men  whom  we  contemn,  we  contemn  also  the  praises. 
Desire  of  fame  after  death  does  the  same.  And  though 
after  death,  there  be  no  sense  of  the  praise  given  us 
on  earth,  as  being  joys,  that  are  either  swallowed  up  in 
the  unspeakable  joys  of  Heaven,  or  extinguished  in  the 
extreme  torments  of  hell :  yet  is  not  such  fame  vain ;  be- 
cause men  have  a  present  delight  therein,  from  the  fore- 
sight of  it,  and  of  the  benefit  that  may  redound  thereby 
to  their  posterity:  which  though  they  now  see  not,  yet 
they  imagine ;  and  anything  that  is  pleasure  to  the  sense, 
the  same  also  is  pleasure  in  the  imagination. 

To  have  received  from  one,  to  whom  we  think  our- 
selves equal,  greater  benefits  than  there  is  hope  to  re- 
quite, disposeth  to  counterfeit  love;  but  really  secret 
hatred;  and  puts  a  man  into  the  estate  of  a  desperate 
debtor,  that  in  declining  the  sight  of  his  creditor,  tacitly 
wishes  him  there,  where  he  might  never  see  him  more. 
For  benefits  oblige,  and  obligation  is  thraldom;  and  un- 
requitable obligation  perpetual  thraldom;  which  is 
to  one's  equal,  hateful.  But  to  have  received  benefits 
from  one,  whom  we  acknowledge  for  superior,  inclines 


1'  -I 


to  love;  because  the  obligation  is  no  new  depression: 
and  cheerful  acceptation,  which  men  call  gratitude,  is 
such  an  honour  done  to  the  obliger,  as  is  taken  generally 
for  retribution.  Also  to  receive  benefits,  though  from  an 
equal,  or  inferior,  as  long  as  there  is  hope  of  requital, 
disposeth  to  love :  for  in  the  intention  of  the  receiver,  the 
obligation  is  of  aid  and  service  mutual;  from  whence 
proceedeth  an  emulation  of  who  shall  exceed  in  benefit- 
ing; the  most  noble  and  profitable  contention  possible; 
wherein  the  victor  is  pleased  with  his  victory,  and  the 
other  revenged  by  confessing  it. 

To  have  done  more  hurt  to  a  man,  than  he  can,  or  is 
willing  to  expiate,  inclineth  the  doer  to  hate  the  sufferer. 
For  he  must  expect  revenge,  or  forgiveness ;  both  which 

are  hateful. 

Fear  of  oppression,  disposeth  a  man  to  anticipate,  or 
to  seek  aid  by  society :  for  there  is  no  other  way  by  which 
a  man  can  secure  his  life  and  liberty. 

Men  that  distrust  their  own  subtlety,  are,  in  tumult 
and  sedition,  better  disposed  for  victory,  than  they  th^t 
suppose  themselves  wise,  or  crafty.  For  these  love  to 
consult,  the  other,  fearing  to  be  circumvented,  to  strike 
first.  And  in  sedition,  men  being  always  in  the  pre- 
cincts of  battle,  to  hold  together,  and  use  all  advantages 
of  force,  is  a  better  strategem,  than  any  that  can  proceed 
from  subtlety  of  wit. 

Vain-glorious  men,  such  as  without  being  conscious 
to  themselves  of  great  sufficiency,  delight  in  supposing 
themselves  gallant  men,  are  inclined  only  to  ostentation ; 
but  not  to  attempt:  because  when  danger  or  difficulty 
appears,  they  look  for  nothing  but  to  have  their  insuf- 
ficiency discovered. 

Vain-glorious  men,  such  as  estimate  their  sufficiency 
by  the  flattery  of  other  men,  or  the  fortune  of  some  pre- 


I 


212 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  MANNERS 


213 


cedent  action,  without  assured  ground  of  hope  from  the 
true  knowledg'e  of  themselves,  are  incHned  to  rash  en- 
gaging; and  in  the  approach  of  danger,  or  difficulty,  to 
retire  if  they  can:  because  not  seeing  the  way  of  safety, 
they  will  rather  hazard  their  honour,  which  may  be  salved 
with  an  excuse;  than  their  lives,  for  which  no  salve  is 
sufficient. 

Men  that  have  a  strong  opinion  of  their  own  wisdom 
in  matter  of  government,  are  disposed  to  ambition.  Be- 
cause without  public  employment  in  council  or  magis- 
tracy, the  honour  of  their  wisdom  is  lost.  And  therefore 
eloquent  speakers  are  inclined  to  ambition ;  for  eloquence 
seemeth  wisdom,  both  to*  themselves  and  others. 

Pusillanimity  disposeth  men  to  irresolution,  and  con- 
sequently to  lose  the  occasions,  and  fittest  opportunities 
of  action.  For  after  men  have  been  in  deliberation  till  the 
time  of  action  approach ;  if  it  be  not  then  manifest  what 
is  best  to  be  done^  it  is  a  sign,  the  difference  of  motives, 
the  one  way  and  the  other,  are  not  great :  therefore  not  to 
resolve  then,  is  to  lose  the  occasion  by  weighing  of  trifles ; 
which  is  pusillanimity. 

Frugality,  though  in  poor  men  a  virtue,  maketh  a 
man  unapt  to  achieve  such  actions,  as  require  the 
strength  of  many  men  at  once:  for  it  weakeneth  their 
endeavour,  which  is  to  be  nourished  and  kept  in  vigor 
by  reward. 

Eloquence,  with  flattery,  disposeth  men  to  confide  in 
them  that  have  it;  because  the  former  is  seeming  wis- 
dom, the  latter  seeming  kindness.  Add  to  them  mil- 
itary reputation,  and  it  disposeth  men  to  adhere,  and 
subject  themselves  to  those  men  that  have  them.  The 
two  former  having  given  them  caution  against  danger 
from  him;  the  latter  gives  them  caution  against  danger 
from  others. 


'I  * 


Want  of  science,  that  is,  ignorance  of  causes,  dispos- 
eth, or  rather  constraineth  a  man  to  rely  on  the  advice, 
and  authority  of  others.  For  all  men  whom  the  truth 
concerns,  if  they  lely  not  on  their  own,  must  rely  on  the 
opinion  of  some  other^  whom  they  think  w^iser  than 
themselves,  and  see  not  why  he  should  deceive  them. 

Ignorance  of  the  signification  of  words,  which  is 
want  of  understanding,  disposeth  men  to  take  on  trust, 
not  only  the  truth  they  know  not ;  but  also  the  errors ; 
and  which  is  more,  the  nonsense  of  them  they  trust:  for 
neither  error  nor  nonsense,  can  without  a  perfect  un- 
derstanding of  words,  be  detected. 

From  the  same  it  proceedeth,  that  men  give  different 
names,  to  one  and  the  same  thing,  from  the  difference  of 
their  own  passions :  as  they  that  approve  a  private  opin- 
ion, call  it  opinion ;  but  they  that  mislike  it,  heresy :  and 
yet  heresy  signifies  no  more  than  private  opinion ;  but  has 
only  a  greater  tincture  of  choler. 

From  the  same  also  it  proceedeth,  that  men  cannot 
distinguish,  without  study  and  great  understanding,  be- 
tween one  action  of  many  men,  and  many  actions  of  one 
multitude ;  as  for  example,  between  one  action  of  all  the 
senators  of  Rome  in  killing  Cataline,  and  the  many  ac- 
tions of  a  number  of  senators  in  killing  Caesar ;  and  there- 
fore are  disposed  to  take  for  the  action  of  the  people,  that 
which  is  a  multitude  of  actions  done  by  a  multitude  of 
men,  led  perhaps  by  the  persuasion  of  one. 

Ignorance  of  the  causes,  and  original  constitution  of 
righl,  equity,  law,  and  justice,  disposeth  a  man  to  make 
custom  and  example  the  rule  of  his  actions ;  in  such  man- 
ner, as  to  think  that  unjust  which  it  hath  been  the  custom 
to  punish ;  and  that  just,  of  the  impunity  and  approbation 
whereof  they  can  produce  an  example,  or,  as  the  lawyers 
which  only  use  this  false  measure  of  justice  barbarous- 


212 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  MANNERS 


cedent  action,  without  assured  ground  of  hope  from  the 
true  knowledg-e  of  themselves,  are  inclined  to  rash  en- 
gaging; and  in  the  approach  of  danger,  or  difficulty,  to 
retire  if  they  can :  because  not  seeing  the  way  of  safety, 
they  will  rather  hazard  their  honour,  which  may  be  salved 
with  an  excuse;  than  their  lives,  for  which  no  salve  is 
sufficient. 

Men  that  have  a  strong  opinion  of  their  own  wisdom 
in  matter  of  government,  are  disposed  to  ambition.  Be- 
cause without  public  employment  in  council  or  magis- 
tracy, the  honour  of  their  wisdom  is  lost.  And  therefore 
eloquent  speakers  are  inclined  to  ambition ;  for  eloquence 
seemeth  wisdom,  both  to*  themselves  and  others. 

Pusillanimity  disposeth  men  to  irresolution,  and  con- 
sequently to  lose  the  occasions,  and  fittest  opportunities 
of  action.  For  after  men  have  been  in  deliberation  till  the 
time  of  action  approach ;  if  it  be  not  then  manifest  what 
is  best  to  be  done,  it  is  a  sign,  the  difference  of  motives, 
the  one  way  and  the  other,  are  not  great :  therefore  not  to 
resolve  then,  is  to  lose  the  occasion  by  weighing  of  trifles ; 
which  is  pusillanimity. 

Frugality,  though  in  poor  men  a  virtue,  maketh  a 
man  unapt  to  achieve  such  actions,  as  require  the 
strength  of  many  men  at  once:  for  it  weakeneth  their 
endeavour,  which  is  to  be  nourished  and  kept  in  vigor 
by  reward. 

Eloquence,  with  flattery,  disposeth  men  to  confide  in 
them  that  have  it;  because  the  former  is  seeming  wis- 
dom, the  latter  seeming  kindness.  Add  to  them  mil- 
itary reputation,  and  it  disposeth  men  to  adhere,  and 
subject  themselves  to  those  men  that  have  them.  The 
two  former  having  given  them  caution  against  danger 
from  him;  the  latter  gives  them  caution  against  danger 
from  others. 


213 


Want  of  science,  that  is,  ignorance  of  causes,  dispos- 
eth, or  rather  constraineth  a  man  to  rely  on  the  advice, 
and  authority  of  others.  For  all  men  whom  the  truth 
concerns,  if  they  lely  not  on  their  own,  must  rely  on  the 
opinion  of  some  other^  whom  they  think  wiser  than 
themselves,  and  see  not  why  he  should  deceive  them. 

Ignorance  of  the  signification  of  words,  which  is 
want  of  understanding,  disposeth  men  to  take  on  trust, 
not  only  the  truth  they  know  not ;  but  also  the  errors ; 
and  which  is  more,  the  nonsense  of  them  they  trust:  for 
neither  error  nor  nonsense,  can  without  a  perfect  un- 
derstanding of  words,  be  detected. 

From  the  same  it  proceedeth,  that  men  give  different 
names,  to  one  and  the  same  thing,  from  the  difference  of 
their  own  passions :  as  they  that  approve  a  private  opin- 
ion, call  it  opinion;  but  they  that  mislike  it,  heresy:  and 
yet  heresy  signifies  no  more  than  private  opinion ;  but  has 
only  a  greater  tincture  of  choler. 

From  the  same  also  it  proceedeth,  that  men  cannot 
distinguish,  without  study  and  great  understanding,  be- 
tween one  action  of  many  men,  and  many  actions  of  one 
multitude;  as  for  example,  between  one  action  of  all  the 
senators  of  Rome  in  killing  Cataline,  and  the  many  ac- 
tions of  a  number  of  senators  in  killing  Caesar ;  and  there- 
fore are  disposed  to  take  for  the  action  of  the  people,  that 
which  is  a  multitude  of  actions  done  by  a  multitude  of 
men,  led  perhaps  by  the  persuasion  of  one. 

Ignorance  of  the  causes,  and  original  constitution  of 
righl,  equity,  law,  and  justice,  disposeth  a  man  to  make 
custom  and  example  the  rule  of  his  actions ;  in  such  man- 
ner, as  to  think  that  unjust  which  it  hath  been  the  custom 
to  punish ;  and  that  just,  of  the  impunity  and  approbation 
whereof  they  can  produce  an  example,  or,  as  the  lawyers 
which  only  use  this  false  measure  of  justice  barbarous- 


I' 


214 


LEVIATHAN 


ly  call  it,  a  precedent ;  like  little  children,  that  have  no 
other  rule  of  good  and  evil  manners,  but  the  correction 
they  receive  from  their  parents  and  masters;  save  that 
children  are  constant  to  their  rule,  whereas,  men  are  not 
so;  because  grown  old,  and  stubborn,  they  appeal  from 
custom  to  reason,  and  from  reason  to  custom,  as  it  serves 
their  turn;   receding  from  custom  when  their  interest 
requires  it,  and   setting  themselves  against  reason,  as 
oft   as   reason   is    against   them:   which   is   the   cause, 
that    the    doctrine    of    right    and    wrong,    is    perpet- 
ually   disputed,    both    by    the    pen    and    the   sword: 
whereas  the  doctrine  of  lines,  and  figures,  is  not  so;  be- 
cause men  care  not,  in  that  subject,  what  be  truth,  as  a 
thing  that  crosses  no  man's   ambition,   profit,   or   lust. 
For  I  doubt  not,  but  if  it  had  been  a  thing  contrary  to 
any  man's  right  of  dominion,  or  to  the  interest  of  men 
that  have  dominion,  that  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle, 
should  be  equal  to  two  angles  of  a  square;  that  doctrine 
should  have  been,    *f  not  disputed,  yet  by  the  burning  of 
all  books  of  geometry,  suppressed,  as  far  as  he  whom  it 
concerned  was  able. 

Ignorance  of  remote  causes,  disposeth  men  to  attrib- 
ute all  events,  to  the  causes  immediate,  and  instrumen- 
tal :  for  these  are  all  the  causes  they  perceive.  And 
hence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  in  all  places,  men  that  are 
grieved  with  payments  to  the  public,  discharge  their 
anger  upon  the  publicans,  that  is  to  say,  farmers,  col- 
lectors, and  other  officers  of  the  public  revenue ;  and  ad- 
here to  such  as  find  fault  with  the  public  government; 
and  thereby,  when  they  have  engaged  themselves  beyond 
hope  of  justification,  fall  also  upon  the  supreme  author- 
ity, for  fear  of  punishment,  or  shame  of  receiving  par- 
don. 

Ignorance  of  natural  causes,  disposeth  a  man  to  cred- 


OF  MANNERS 


215. 


ulity,  so  as  to  believe  many  times  impossibilities :  for 
such  know  nothing  to  the  contrary,  but  that  they  may  be 
true;  being  unable  to  detect  the  impossibility.^  And 
credulity,  because  men  like  to  be  hearkened  unto  in  com- 
pany, disposeth  them  to  lying:  so  that  ignorance  itself 
without  malice,  is  able  to  make  a  man  both  to  believe 
lies,  and  tell  them;  and  sometimes  also  to  invent  them. 

Anxiety  for  the  future  time,  disposeth  men  to  in- 
quire into  the  causes  of  things :  because  the  knowledge 
of  them,  maketh  men  the  better  able  to  order  the  present 
to  their  best  advantage. 

Curiosity,  or  love  of  the  knowledge  of  causes,  draws 
a  man  from  the  consideration  of  the  effect,  to  seek  the 
cause ;  and  again,  the  cause  of  that  cause ;  till  of  necessi- 
ty he  must  come  to  this  thought  at  last,  that  there  is 
some  cause,  whereof  there  is  no  former  cause,  but  is 
eternal;  which  is  it  men  call  God.  So  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  make  any  profound  inquiry  into  natural 
causes,  without  being  inclined  thereby  to  believe  there 
is  one  God  eternal;  though  they  cannot  have  any  idea 
of  him  in  their  mind,  answerable  to  his  nature.  For  as  a 
man  that  is  born  blind,  hearing  men  talk  of  warming  them- 
selves by  the  fire,  and  being  brought  to  warm  himself 
by  the  same,  may  easily  conceive,  and  assure  himself, 
there  is  somewhat  there,  which  men  call  fire,  and  is  the 
cause  of  the  heat  he  feels ;  but  cannot  imagine  what  it  is 
like ;  nor  have  an  idea  of  it  in  his  mind,  such  as  they  have 
that  see  it:  so  also  by  the  visible  things  in  this  world, 
and  their  admirable  order,  a  man  may  conceive  there  is 
a  cause  of  them,  which  men  call  God ;  and  yet  not  have 
an  idea,  or  image  of  him  in  his  mind. 

And  they  that  make  little,  or  no  inquiry  into  the  nat- 
ural causes  of  things,  yet  from  the  fear  that  proceeds 
from  the  ignorance  itself,  of  what  it  is  that  hath  the 


2l6 


LEVIATHAN 


power  to  do  them  much  good  or  harm,  are  inclined  to 
suppose,  and  feign  unto  themselves,  several  kinds  of 
powers  invisible;  and  to  stand  in  awe  of  their  own  imag- 
inations ;  and  in  time  of  distress  to  invoke  them ;  as  also 
in  the  time  of  an  expected  good  success,  to  give  them 
thanks;  making  the  creatures  of  their  own  fancy,  their 
gods.  By  which  means  it  hath  come  to  pass,  that  from  the 
innumerable  variety  of  fancy,  men  have  created  in  the 
world  innumerable  sorts  of  gods.  And  this  fear  of 
things  invisible,  is  the  natural  seed  of  that,  which  every 
one  in  himself  calleth  religion ;  and  in  them  that  worship, 
or  fear  that  power  otherwise  than  they  do,  superstition. 
And  this  seed  of  religion,  having  been  observed  by 
many ;  some  of  those  that  have  observed  it,  have  been  in- 
clined thereby  to  nourish,  dress,  and  form  it  into  laws ; 
and  to  add  to  it  of  their  own  invention,  any  opinion  of 
the  causes  of  future  events,  by  which  they  thought  they 
should  be  best  able  to  govern  others,  and  make  imto 
themselves  the  greatest  use  of  their  powers. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


OF  RELIGION. 


Seeing  there  are  no  signs,  nor  fruit  of  religion, 
but  in  man  only ;  there  is  no  cause  to  doubt,  but  that  the 
seed  of  religion,  is  also  only  in  man;  and  consisteth  in 
some  peculiar  quality,  or  at  least  in  some  eminent  degree 
thereof,  not  to  be  found  in  any  other  living  creatures. 
And  first,  it  is  peculiar  to  the  nature  of  man,  to  be 
inquisitive  into  the  causes  of  the  events  they  see,  some 
more,  some  less ;  but  all  men  so  much,  as  to  be  curious  in 
the  search  of  the  causes  of   their    own    good  and  evil 

fortune. 

Secondly,  upon  the  sight  of  anything  that  hath  a  be- 
ginning, to  think  also  it  had  a  cause,  which  determined 
the  same  to  begin,  then  when  it  did,  rather  than  sooner 
or  later. 

Thirdly,  whereas  there  is  no  other  felicity  of  beasts, 
but  the  enjoying  of  their  quotidian  food,  ease,  and  lusts ; 
as  having  little  or  no  foresight  of  the  time  to  come,  for 
want  of  observation,  and  memory  of  the  order,  conse- 
quence, and  dependence  of  the  things  they  see ;  man  ob- 
serveth  how  one  event  hath  been  produced  by  another; 
and  remembereth  in  them  antecedence  and  consequence; 
and  when  he  cannot  assure  himself  of  the  true  causes 
of  things,  (for  the  causes  of  good  and  evil  fortune 
for  the  most  part  are  invisible,)  he  supposes  causes  of 
them,  either  such  as  his  own  fancy  suggesteth ;  or  trust- 
eth  the  authority  of  other  men,  such  as  he  thinks  to  be 
his  friends,  and  wiser  than  himself. 

The  two  first,  make  anxiety.  For  being  assured 
that  there  be  causes  of  all  things  that  have  arrived  hither- 
to, or  shall  arrive  hereafter;  it  is  impossible  for  a  man, 


3l8 


LEVIATHAN 


who  continually  endeavoureth  to  secure  himself  against 
the  evil  he  fears,  and  procure  the  good  he  desireth,  not 
to  be  in  a  perpetual  solicitude  of  the  time  to  come;  so  that 
every  man,  especially  those  that  are  over  provident,  are  in 
a  state  like  to  that  of  Prometheus.  For  as  Prometheus, 
which  interpreted,  is,  the  prudent  man,  was  bound  to  the 
hill  Caucasus,  a  place  of  large  prospect,  where,  an  eagle 
feeding  on  his  liver,  devoured  in  the  day,  as  much  as  was 
repaired  in  the  night:  so  that  man,  which  looks  too  far 
before  him,  in  the  care  of  future  time,  hath  his  heart  all 
the  day  long,  gnawed  on  by  fear  of  death,  poverty,  or 
other  calamity ;  and  has  no  repose,  nor  pause  of  his  anxi- 
ety, but  in  sleep. 

This  perpetual  fear,  always  acrnmpanving-  mankind! 
in  the  ignorance  of  causes,  as  it  were  in  the  dark,  must 

somett^ing:  Ana  therefore  when 
there  is  nothing  to  be  seen,  there  is  nothing  to  accuse, 
either  of  their  good,  or  evil  fortune,  but  some  power, 
or  agent  invisible:  in  which  sense  perhaps  it  was, 
that  some  of  the  old  poets  said,  that  the  gods  were  at 
first  created  by  human  fear:  which  spoken  of  the  gods, 
that  is  to  say,  of  the  many  gods  of  the  Gentiles,  is  very 

(true,  gut  the  acknowledging  of  one  God,  eternal, 
infinite,  and  omnipotent,  may  more  easily  be  derived, 
from  the  desire  men  have  to  know  the  causes  of  natural 
bodies,  and  their  several  virtues,  and  operations;  than 
from  the  fear  of  what  was  to  befall  them  in  time  to 
come.  For  he  that  from  any  effect  he  seeth  come  to  pass, 
should  reason  to  the  next  and  immediate  cause  thereof, 
and  from  thence  to  the  cause  of  that  cause,  and  plunge 
himself  profoundly  in  the  pursuit  of  causes ;  shall  at  last 
come  to  this,  that  there  must  be,  as  even  the  heathen  phil- 
osophers confessed,  one  first  mover :  that  is,  a  first,  and 
an  eternal  cause  of  all  things ;  which  is  that  which  men 


OF  RELIGION 


319 


mean  by  the  name  of  God:  and  all  this  without  thought 
of  their  fortune ;  the  solicitude  whereof,  both  inclines  to 
fear,  and  hinders  them  from  the  search  of  the  causes  of 
other  things;  and  thereby  gives  occasion  of  feigning  of 
as  many  gods,  as  there  be  men  that  feign  them. 

And  for  the  matter,  or  substance  of  the  invisible 
agents,  so  fancied;  they  could  not  by  natural  cogitation, 
fall  upon  any  other  conceit,  but  that  it  was  the  same  with 
that  of  the  soul  of  man ;  and  that  the  soul  of  man,  was 
of  the  same  substance,  with  that  which  appeareth  in 
a  dream,  to  one  that  sleepeth;  or  in  a  looking-glass, 
to  one  that  is  awake ;  which,  men  not  knowing  that  such 
apparitions  are  nothing  else  but  creatures  of  the  fancy, 
think  to  be  real,  and  external  substances;  and  therefore 
call  them  ghosts;  as  the  Latins  called  them  imagines, 
and  umbrae;  and  thought  them  spirits,  that  is,  thin  aerial 
bodies;  and  those  invisible  agents,  which  they  feared, 
to  be  like  them ;  save  that  they  appear,  and  vanish  when 
they  please.  But  the  opinion  that  such  spirits  were  in- 
corporeal, or  immaterial,  could  never  enter  into  the  mind 
of  any  man  by  nature ;  because,  though  men  may  put  to- 
gether words  of  contradictory  signification,  as  spirit,  and 
incorporeal;  yet  they  can  never  have  the  imagination  of 
any  thing  answering  to  them:  and  therefore,  men  that 
by  their  own  meditation,  arrive  to  the  acknowledgment 
of  one  infinite,  omnipotent,  and  eternal  God,  chose  rather 
to  confess  he  is  incomprehensible,  and  above  their  under- 
standing, than  to  define  his  nature  by  spirit  incorporeal, 
and  then  confess  their  definition  to  be  imintelligible :  or  if 
they  give  him  such  a  title,  it  is  not  dogmatically,  with  in- 
tention to  make  the  divine  nature  understood ;  but  piously, 
to  honour  him  with  attributes,  of  significations,  as  remote 
as  they  can  from  the  grossness  of  bodies  visible. 

Then,  for  the  way  by  which  they  think  these  invis- 


220 


LEVIATHAN 


ible  agents  wrought  their  effects;  that  is  to  say,  what 
immediate  causes  they  used,  in  bringing  things  to  pass, 
men  that  know  not  what  it  is  that  we  call  causing,  that 
is,  almost  all  men,  have  no  other  rule  to  guess  by,  but  by 
observing,  and  remembering  what  they  have  seen  to  pre- 
cede the  like  effect  at  some  other  time,  or  times  before, 
without  seeing  between  the  antecedent  and  subsequent 
event,  any  dependence  or  connexion  at  all :  and  therefore 
from  the  like  things  past,  they  expect  the  like  things  to 
come;  and  hope  for  good  or  evil  luck,  superstitiously, 
from  things  that  have  no  part  at  all  in  the  causing  of  it  : 
as  the  Athenians  did  for  their  war  at  Lepanto,  demand 
another  Phormio ;  the  Pompeian  faction  for  their  war  in 
Africa,  another  Scipio;  and  others  have  done  in  divers 
other  occasions  since.  In  like  manner  they  attribute  their 
fortune  to  a  stander  by,  to  a  lucky  or  unlucky  place,  to 
words  spoken,  especially  if  the  name  of  God  be  amongst 
them;  as  charming  and  conjuring,  the  liturgy  of  witches; 
insomuch  as  to  believe,  they  have  power  to  turn  a  stone 
into  bread,  bread  into  a  man,  or  any  thing  into  any  thing. 

Thirdly,  for  the  worship  which  naturally  men  exhibit 
to  powers  invisible,  it  can  be  no  other,  but  such  expres- 
sions of  their  reverence,  as  they  would  use  towards  men; 
gifts,  petitions,  thanks,  submission  of  body,  considerate 
addresses,  sober  behaviour,  premeditated  words,  swear- 
ing, that  is,  assuring  one  another  of  *heir  promises,  by 
invoking  them.  Beyond  that  reason  suggesteth  nothing; 
but  leaves  them  either  to  rest  there ;  or  for  further  cere- 
monies, to  rely  on  those  they  believe  to  be  wiser  than 
themselves. 

Lastly,  concerning  how  these  invisible  powers  declare 
to  men  the  things  which  shall  hereafter  come  to  pass,  es- 
pecially concerning  their  good  or  evil  fortune  in  general, 
or  good  or  ill  success  in  any  particular  undertaking,  men 


OF  RELIGION 


2S] 


are  naturally  at  a  stand ;  save  that  using  to  conjecture  of 
the  time  to  come,  by  the  time  past,  they  are  very  apt,  not 
only  to  take  casual  things,  after  one  or  two  encounters,  for 
prognostics  of  the  like  encounter  ever  after,  but  also  to 
believe  the  like  prognostics  from  other  men,  of  whom 
they  have  once  conceived  a  good  opinion. 

And  in  these  four  thmgs,  opinion  of  ghosts,  ignorance 
of  second  causes,  devotion  towards  what  men  fear,  and 
taking  of  things  casual  for  prognostics,  consisteth  the 
^natural  seed  of  religion;  which  by  reason  of  the  different 
fancies,  judgments,  and  passions  of  several  men,  hath 
grown  up  into  ceremonies  so  different,  that  those  which 
are  used  by  one  man,  are  for  the  most  part  ridiculous  to 
another. 

For  these  seeds  have  received  culture  from  two  sorts 
of  men.  One  sort  have  been  they,  that  have  nourished, 
and  ordered  them,  according  to  their  own  invention.  The 
other  have  done  it,  by  God's  commandment,  and  direc- 
tion; but  both  sorts  have  done  it,  with  a  purpose  to 
make  those  men  that  relied  on  them,  the  more  apt  to 
obedience,  laws,  peace,  charity,  and  civil  society.  So 
that  the  religion  of  the  former  sort,  is  a  part  of  hu- 
man politics ;  and  teacheth  part  of  the  duty  which  earth- 
ly kings  require  of  their  subjects.  And  the  religion  of 
the  latter  sort  is  divine  politics;  and  containeth  precept? 
to  those  that  have  yielded  themselves  subjects  in  the  king- 
dom of  God.  Of  the  former  sort,  were  all  the  founders 
of  common-wealths,  and  the  law-givers  of  the  Gentiles: 
of  ihe  latter  sort,  were  Abraham,  Moses,  and  our  blessed 
Saviour ;  bv  whom  have  been  derived  unto  us  the  laws  of 
the  kingdom  of  God. 

And  for  that  part  of  religion,  which  consisteth  in 
opinions  concerning  the  nature  of  powers  invisible,  there 
is  almost  nothing  that  has  a  name,  that  has  not  been 


222 


LEVIATHAN 


esteemed  amongst  the  Gentiles,  in  one  place  or  another, 
a  god,  or  devil ;  or  by  their  poets  feigned  to  be  inanimated, 
inhabited,  or  possessed  by  some  spirit  or  other. 

The  unformed  matter  of  the  world,  was  a  god,  by 
the  name  of  Chaos. 

The  heaven,  the  ocean,  the  planets,  the  fire,  the  earth, 
the  winds,  were  so  many  gods. 

Men,  women,  a  bird,  a  crocodile,  a  calf,  a  dog,  a 
snake,  an  onion,  a  leek,  were  deified.  Besides  that,  they 
filled  almost  all  places,  with  spirits  called  demons:  the 
plains,  with  Pan,  and  Panises,  or  Satyrs;  the  woods, 
with  Fawns,  and  Nymphs;  the  sea,  with  Tritons,  and 
other  Nymphs;  every  river,  and  fountain,  with  a  ghost 
oi  his  name,  and  with  Nymphs;  every  house  with  its 
Lares,  or  familiars;  every  man  with  his  Genius;  hell 
with  ghosts,  and  spiritual  officers,  as  Charon,  Cerberus, 
and  the  Furies;  and  in  the  night  time,  all  places  with 
larvae,  lemures,  ghosts  of  men  deceased,  and  a  whole 
kingdom  of  fairies  and  bugbears.  They  have  also  as- 
cribed divinity,  and  built  temples  to  mere  accidents,  and 
qualities ;  such  as  are  time,  night,  day,  peace,  concord, 
love,  contention,  virtue,  honour,  health,  rust,  fever,  and 
the  like ;  which  when  they  prayed  for,  or  against,  they 
prayed  to,  as  if  there  were  ghosts  of  those  names  hanging 
over  their  heads,  and  letting  fall,  or  withholding  that 
good,  or  evil,  for,  or  against  which  they  prayed.  They 
invoked  also  their  own  wit,  by  the  name  of  Muses ;  their 
own  ignorance,  by  the  name  of  Fortune ;  their  own  lusts 
by  the  name  of  Cupid;  their  own  rage,  by  the  name  of 
Furies ;  their  own  privy  members,  by  the  name  of  Pria- 
pus;  and  attributed  their  pollutions,  to  Tncubi,  and  Suc- 
cubae:  insomuch  as  there  was  nothing,  which  a  poet  could 
introduce  as  a  person  in  his  poem,  which  they  did  not 
make  either  a  god,  or  a  devil. 


OF  RELIGION 


223 


The  same  authors  of  the  religion  of  the  Gentiles,  ob- 
serving the  second  ground  for  religion,  which  is  men's 
ignorance  of  causes ;  and  thereby  their  aptness  to  attri- 
bute their  fortune  to  causes,  on  which  there  was  no  de- 
pendence at  all  apparent,  took  occasion  to  obtrude  on 
their  ignorance,  instead  of  second  causes,  a  kind  of  sec- 
ond and  ministerial  gods ;  ascribing  the  cause  of  fecundi- 
ty, to  Venus ;  the  cause  of  arts,  to  Apollo ;  of  subtlety  and 
craft,  to  Mercury;  of  tempests  and  storms,  to  Aeolus; 
and  of  other  effects,  to  other  gods ;  insomuch  as  there  was 
amongst  the  heathen  almost  as  great  variety  of  gods, 
as  of  business. 

And  to  the  worship,  which  naturally  men  conceived 
fit  to  be  used  towards  their  gods,  namely,  oblations, 
prayers,  thanks,  and  the  rest  formerly  named ;  the  same 
legislators  of  the  Gentiles  have  added  their  images,  both 
in  picture,  and  sculpture;  that  the  more  ignorant  sort, 
that  is  to  say,  the  most  part  or  generality  of  the  people, 
thinking  the  gods  for  whose  representation  they  were 
made,  were  really  included,  and  as  it  were  housed  within 
them,  might  so  much  the  more  stand  in  fear  of  them: 
and  endowed  them  with  lands,  and  houses,  and  officers, 
and  revenues,  set  apart  from  all  other  human  uses;  that 
is,  consecrated,  and  made  holy  to  those  their  idols;  as 
caverns,  groves,  woods,  mountains,  and  whole  islands; 
and  have  attributed  to  them,  not  only  the  shapes,  some 
of  men,  some  of  beasts,  some  of  monsters;  but  also  the 
faculties,  and  passions  of  men  and  beasts:  as  sense, 
speech,  sex,  lust,  generation,  and  this  not  only  bv  mixing 
one  with  another,  to  propagate  the  kind  of  gods ;  but  also 
by  mixing  with  men,  and  women,  to  beget  mongrel  gods, 
and  but  Inmates  of  heaven,  as  Bacchus,  Hercules,  and 
others;  besides  anger,  revenge,  and  other  passions  of 
living  creatures,  and  the  actions  proceeding  from  them, 


324 


LEVIATHAN 


as  fraud,  theft,  adultery,  sodomy,  and  any  vice  that  may 
be  taken  for  an  effect  of  power,  or  a  cause  of  pleasure ; 
and  all  such  vices,  as  amongst  men  are  taken  to  be 
against  law,  rather  than  against  honour. 

Lastly,  to  the  prognostics  of  time  to  come ;  which  are 
naturally,  but  conjectures  upon  experience  of  time  past; 
and  supernaturally,  divine  revelation;  the  same  authors 
of  the  religion  of  the  Gentiles,  partly  upon  pretended 
experience,  partly  upon  pretended  revelation,  have  added 
innumerable  other  superstitious  ways  of  divination;  and 
made  men  believe  they  should  find  their  fortunes,  some- 
times in  the  ambiguous  or  senseless  answers  of  the  priests 
at  Delphi,  Delos,  Ammon,  and  other  famous  oracles; 
which  answers,  were  made  ambiguous  by  design,  to  own 
the  event  both  ways ;  or  absurd,  by  the  intoxicating  vapour 
of  the  place,  which  is  very  frequent  in  sulphurous  cav- 
erns: sometimes  in  the  leaves  of  the  Sybils;  of  whose 
prophecies,  like  those  perhaps  of  Nostradamus  (for  the 
fragments  now  extant  seem  to  be  the  invention  of  later 
times),  there  were  some  books  in  reputation  in  the  time 
of  the  Roman  republic:  sometimes  in  the  insignificant 
speeches  of  madmen,  supposed  to  be  possessed  with  a 
divine  spirit,  which  possession  they  called  enthusiasm; 
and  these  kinds  of  foretelling  events,  were  accounted 
theomancy,  or  prophecy:  sometimes  in  the  aspect  of 
the  stars  at  their  nativity;  which  was  called  horoscopy, 
and  esteemed  a  part  of  judiciary  astrology:  sometimes 
in  their  own  hopes  and  fears,  called  thumomancy,  or 
presage :  sometimes  in  the  prediction  of  witches,  that  pre- 
tended conference  with  the  dead;  which  is  called  necro- 
mancy, conjuring,  and  witchcraft;  and  is  but  juggling  and 
confederate  knavery:  sometimes  in  the  casual  flight,  or 
feeding  of  birds ;  called  augury :  sometimes  in  the  entrails 
of  a  sacrificed  beast ;  which  was  aruspicina:  sometimes  in 


OF  RELIGION 


215 


dreams :  sometimes  in  croaking  of  ravens,  or  chattering  of 
birds :  sometimes  in  the  lineaments  of  the  face ;  which  was 
called  metoposcopy;  or  by  palmistry  in  the  hues  of  the 
hand;  in  casual  words,  called  omina:  sometimes  m  mon- 
sters,  or  unusual  accidents ;  as  eclipses,  comets,  rare  me- 
teors,  earthquakes,  inundations,  uncouth  births,  and  the 
like   which  they  call  portenta,  and  ostenta,  because  they 
thought  them  to  portend,  or  foreshow  some  great  calam- 
ity to  come;  sometimes,  m  mere  lottery,  as  cross  and  pile; 
counting  holes  in  a  sieve ;  dipping  of  verses  in  Homer, 
and  Virgil ;  and  innumerable  other  such  vain  conceits,  bo 
easy  are  men  to  be  drawn  to  believe  any  thing,    from 
such  men  as  have  gotten  credit  with  them ;  and  can  with 
gentleness,  and  dexterity,  take  hold  of  their  fear,  and 

ignorance.  *  ,     .  ,  t 

And  therefore  the  first  founders,  and  legislators  of 
commonwealths  among  the  Gentiles,  whose  ends  were 
only  to  keep  the  people  in  obedience,  and  peace,  have 
in  all  places  taken  care;  first,  to  imprint  in  their  mmds 
a  belief,  that  those  precepts  which  they  gave  concerning 
religion,  might  not  be  thought  to  proceed  from  their  own 
device,  but  from  the  dictates  of  some  god,  or  other  spirit ; 
or  else  that  thev  themselves  were  of  a  higher  nature  than 
mere  mortals,  that  their  laws  might  the  more  easily  be 
received:  so  Numa  Pompilius  pretended  to  receive  the 
ceremonies  he  instituted  amongst  the  Romans,  from  the 
nymph  Egeria:  and  the  first  king  and  founder  of  the 
kingdom  of  Peru,  pretended  himself  and  his  wife  to  be 
the  children  of  the  Sun ;  and  Mahomet,  to  set  up  his  new 
religion,  pretended  to  have  conferences  with  the  Holy 
Ghost,  in  form  of  a  dove.     Secondly,  they  have  had  a 
care,  to  make  it  believed,  that  the  same  things  were  dis- 
pleasing  to  the  gods,  which  were  forbidden  by  the  laws. 
Thirdly,  to  prescribe  ceremonies,  supplications,  sacrifices, 


226 


LEVIATHAN 


and  festivals,  by  which  they  were  to  brieve,  the  anger 
of  the  gods  might  be  appeased ;  and  that  ill  success  in 
war,  great  contagions  of  sickness,  earthquakes,  and  each 
man's  private  misery,  came  from  the  anger  of  the  gods, 
and  their  anger  from  the  neglect  of  their  worship,  or 
the  forgetting,  or  mistaking  some  point  of  the  ceremon- 
ies required.  And  though  amongst  the  ancient  Romans, 
men  were  not  forbidden  to  deny,  that  which  in  the  poets 
is  written  of  the  pains,  and  pleasures  after  this  life: 
which  divers  of  great  authority,  and  gravity  in  that 
state  have  in  their  harangues  openly  derided;  yet  that 
belief  was  always  more  cherished,  than  the  contrary. 

And  by  these,  and  such  other  institutions,  they  ob- 
tained in  order  to  their  end,  which  was  the  peace  of  the 
commonwealth,  that  the  common  people  in  their  misfor- 
tunes, laying  the  fault  on  neglect,  or  error  in  their 
ceremonies,  or  on  their  own  disobedience  to  the  laws, 
were  the  less  apt  to  mutiny  against  their  governors ;  and 
being  entertained  with  the  pomp,  and  pastime  of  festi- 
vals, and  public  games,  made  in  honour  of  the  gods,  need- 
ed nothing  else  but  bread  to  keep  them  from  discontent, 
murmuring,  and  commotion  against  the  state.  And 
therefore  the  Romans,  that  had  conquered  the  greatest 
part  of  the  then  known  world,  made  no  scruple  of  toler- 
ating  any  religion  whatsoever  in  the  city  of  Rome  itself^ 
unless  it  had  something  in  it,  that  could  not  consist  with 
their  civil  government ;  nor  do  we  read,  that  any  religion 
was  there  forbidden,  but  that  of  the  Jews;  who,  being 
tilt  peculiar  kingdom  of  God,  thought  it  unlawful  to  ac- 
knowledge subjection  to  any  mortal  king  or  state  what- 
soever. And  thus  vou  see  how  the  religion  of  the  Gen» 
tiles  was  a  part  of  their  policy. 

But  where  God  himself,  by  supernatural  revelation, 
planted  religion ;  there  he  also  made  to  himself  a  peculiar 


OF  RELIGION 


227 


kingdom :  and  gave  laws,  not  only  of  behaviour  towards 
himself,  but  also  towards  one  another ;  and  thereby  Jn 
the  kingdom  of  God,  the  policy,  and  laws  civil,  are  a  part 
of  reHgion;  and  therefore  the  distinction  of  temporal, 
and  spiritual  domination,  hath  there  no  place.  It  is  true, 
that  God  is  king  of  all  the  earth:  yet  may  he  be  king  of 
a  peculiar,  and  chosen  nation.  For  there  is  no  more  in- 
congruity therein,  than  that  he  that  hath  the  general 
command  of  the  whole  army,  should  have  withal  a  pe- 
culiar regiment,  or  company  of  his  own.  God  is  king  of 
all  the  earth  by  his  power :  but  of  his  chosen  people,  he 
is  king  by  covenant.  But  to  speak  more  largely  of  the 
kingdom  of  God,  both  by  nature,  and  covenant,  I  have 
in  the  following  discourse  assigned  another  place  (chap- 
ter XXXV  ). 

From  the  propagation  of  religion,  it  is  not  hard  to 
understand  the  causes  of  the  resolution  of  the  same  into 
its  first  seeds,  or  principles ;  which  are  only  an  opinion  of 
a  deity,  and  powers  invisible,  and  supernatural ;  that  can 
never  be  so  abolished  out  of  human  nature,  but  that  new 
religions  may  again  be  made  to  spring  out  of  them,  by  the 
culture  of  such  men,  as  for  such  purpose  are  in  repu- 
tation. 

For  seeing  all  formed  religion,  is  founded  at  first, 
upon  the  faith  which  a  multitude  hath  in  some  one  per- 
son, whom  they  believe  not  only  to  be  a  wise  man,  and  to 
labour  to  procure  their  happiness,  but  also  to  be  a  holy 
man,  to  whom  God  himself  vouchsafeth  to  declare  his 
will  supematurally ;  it  followeth  necessarily,  when  they 
that  have  the  government  of  religion,  shall  come  to  have 
either  the  wisdom  of  those  men,  their  sincerity,  or  their 
love  suspected ;  or  when  they  shall  be  unable  to  show  any 
probable  token  of  divine  revelation;  that  the  religion 
which  they  desire  to  uphold,  must  be  suspected  likewise ; 


228 


LEVIATHAN 


and,  without  the  fear  of  the  civil  sword,  contradicted 
and  rejected. 

That  which  taketh  away  the  reputation  of  wisdom, 
m  him  that  formeth  a  rehgion,  or  addeth  to  it  when  it  is 
already  formed,  is  the  enjoining  of  a  belief  of  contradic- 
tories :  for  both  parts  of  a  contradiction  cannot  possibly 
be  true:  and  therefore  to  enjoin  the  belief  of  them,  is 
an  argument  of  ignorance;  which  detects  the  author  in 
that;  and  discredits  him  in  all  things  else  he  shall  pro- 
pound as  from  revelation  supernatural :  which  revelation 
a  man  may  indeed  have  of  many  things  above,  but  of 
nothing  against  natural  reason. 

That  which  taketh  away  the  reputation  of  sincerity, 
is  the  doing  or  saying  of  such  things,  as  appear  to  be 
signs,  that  what  they  require  other  men  to  believe,  is 
not  believed  by  themselves ;  all  which  doings,  or  sayings 
are  therefore  called  scandalous,  because  they  be  stumb- 
ling blocks,  that  make  men  to  fall  in  the  way  of  religion ; 
as  injustice,  cruelty,  profaneness,  avarice,  and  luxury. 
For  who  can  believe,  that  he  that  doth  ordinarily  such 
actions  as  proceed  from  any  of  these  roots,  believeth  there 
is  any  such  invisible  power  to  be  feared,  as  he  affright- 
eth  other  men  withal,  for  lesser  faults? 

That  which  taketh  away  the  reputation  of  love,  is 
the  being  detected  of  private  ends:  as  when  the  belief 
they  require  of  others,  conduceth  or  seemeth  to  conduce 
to  the  acquiring  of  dominion,  riches,  dignity,  or  secure 
pleasure,  to  themselves  only,  or  specially.  For  that  which 
men  reap  benefit  by  to  themselves,  they  are  thought  to 
do  for  their  own  sakes,  and  not  for  love  of  others. 

Lastly,  the  testimony  that  men  can  render  of  divine 
calling,  can  be  no  other,  than  the  operation  of  miracles; 
or  true  prophecy,  which  also  is  a  miracle;  or  extraor- 
dinary felicity.    And  therefore,  to  those  points  of  religion, 


OF  RELIGION 


229 


which  have  been  received  from  them  that  did  such  mir- 
acles ;  those  that  are  added  by  such,  as  approve  not  their 
calling  by  some  miracle,  obtain  no  greater  belief,  than 
What  the  custom  and  laws  of  the  places,  in  which  they 
be  educated,  have  wrought  into  them.  For  as  in  natural 
things,  men  of  judgment  require  natural  signs,  and  ar- 
guments;  so  in  supernatural  things,  they  require  signs 
supernatural,  which  are  miracles,  before  they  consent  in- 
wardly, and  from  their  hearts. 

All  which  causes  of  the  weakening  of  men's  faith; 
do  manifestly  appear  in  the  examples  following.  First, 
we  have  the  example  of  the  children  of  Israel:  who 
when  Moses,  that  had  approved  his  calling  to  them  b> 
miracles,  and  by  the  happy  conduct  of  them  out  of  Egypt, 
was  absent  but  forty  days,  revolted  from  the  worship  of 
the  true  God,  recommended  to  them  by  him ;  and  setting 
up  {Exod.  xxxiii.  I.  2)  a  golden  calf  for  their  god,  re- 
lapsed into  the  idolatry  of  the  Egyptians ;  from  whom 
they  had  been  so  lately  delivered.  And  again,  afte' 
Mouses,  Aaron,  Joshua,  and  that  generation  which  had 
seen  the  great  works  of  God  in  Israel,  (Judges  n.  ii) 
were  dead;  another  generation  arose,  and  served  BaaL 
So  that  miracles  failing,  faith  also  failed. 

Again,  when  the  sons  of  Samuel,  (i  Sam,  viii.  3)  be- 
ing constituted  by  their  father  judges  in  Bersabee,  re- 
ceived bribes,  and  judged  unjustly,  the  people  of  Israel 
refused  any  more  to  have  God  to  be  their  king,  in  other 
manner  than  he  was  king  of  other  people;  and  there- 
fore cried  out  to  Samuel,  to  chose  them  a  king  after  the 
manner  of  the  nations.  So  that  justice  failing,  faith  also 
failed :  insomuch,  as  they  deposed  their  God,  from  reign- 
ing over  them. 

And  whereas  in  the  planting  of  Christian  religion, 
the  oracles  ceased  in  all  parts  of  the  Roman  empire,  and 


230 


LEVIATHAN 


the  number  of  Christians  increased  wonderfully   every 
day,  and  in  every  place,  by  the  preaching  of  the  Apos- 
tles, and  Evangelists ;  a  great  part  of  that  success,  may 
reasonablv  be  attributed,  to  the  contempt,  into  which  the 
priests  of  the  Gentiles  of  that  time,  had  brought  them- 
selves, by  their  uncleanness,  avarice,  and  juggling    be- 
tween princes.    Also  the  religion  of  the  church  of  Rome, 
was  partly,  for  the  same  cause  abolished  in  England, 
and  many  other  parts  of  Christendom ;  insomuch,  as  the 
failing  of  virtue  in  the  pastors,  maketh  faith  fail  in  the 
people :  and  partly  from  bringing  ofjhe  philosophy,  and 
doctrineof  Aristotle  into  religion71b\-  the  Schoolmen; 
fronT  whence  there  arose  so  many  contradictions^^anj 
absjirdities,  as  brought  the  clergy  into  a  reputation  both 
of  ignorance,  and  of  fraudulent  intention;  and  inclined 
people  to  revolt  from  them,  either  against  the  will  of  their 
own  princes,  as  in  France  and  Holland;  or  with  their 
will,  as  in  England. 

Lastly,  amongst  the  points  by  the  church  of  Rome 
declared  necessary  for  salvation,  there  be  so  many,  mani- 
festly to  the  advantage  of  the  Pope,  and  of  his  spiritual 
subjects,  residing  in  the  territories  of  other  Christian 
princes,  that  were  it  not  for  the  mutual  emulation  of 
those  princes,  they  might  without  war,  or  trouble,  ex- 
clude all  foreign  authority,  as  easily  as  it  has  been  ex- 
cluded in  England.  For  who  is  there  that  does  not  see,  to 
whose  benefit  it  conduceth,  to  have  it  believed,  that  a  king 
hath  not  his  authority  from  Christ,  unless  a  bishop  crown 
him?  That  a  king,  if  he  be  a  priest,  cannot  marry?  That 
whether  a  prince  be  born  in  lawful  marriage,  or  not,  must 
be  judged  by  authority  from  Rome?  That  subjects  may 
be  freed  from  their  allegiance,  if  by  the  court  of  Rome, 
the  king  be  judged  an  heretic?  That  a  king,  as  Chil- 
peric  of  France,  may  be  deposed  by  a  pope,  as  Pope  Zach- 


LEVIATHAN 


231 


ary,  for  no  cause;  and  his  kingdom  given  to  one  of  his 
subjects?  That  the  clergy  and  regulars,  in  what  country 
soever,  shall  be  exempt  from  the  jurisdiction  of  their  king 
in  cases  criminal  ?  Or  who  does  not  see,  to  whose  profit 
redound  the  fees  of  private  masses,  and  vales  of  purga- 
tory ;  with  other  signs  of  private  interest,  enough  to  mor- 
tify the  most  lively  faith,  if,  as  I  said,  the  civil  magis- 
trate, and  custom  did  not  more  sustain  it,  than  any  opin- 
ion they  have  of  the  sanctity,  wisdom,  or  probity  of  their 
teachers  ?  So  that  I  may  attribute  all  the  changes  of  re- 
ligion  in  the  world^to  one  and  the  same  cause ;  and  that 
is.  unpleasing  priests ;  and  those  not  only  amongst  Catho« 
lies,  but  even  in  that  church  that  hath  presumed  most  of 
reformation. 


'li- 


NATURAL  CONDITION  OF  MANKIND 


233 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

OF  THE   NATURAL  CONDITION   OF   MANKIND  AS   CONCER|i- 
ING  THEIR  FELICITY,  AND  MISERY. 

Nature  hath  made  men  so  equal,   in  the   faculties  of 


the  body,  and  mind;  as  that  though  there  be  found  one 
man  sometimes  manifestly  stronger  in  body,  or  of  quick- 
er mind  than  another ;  yet  when  all  is  reckoned  together, 
the  diflFerence  between  man,  and  man,  is  not  so  consider- 
able, as  that  one  man  can  thereupon  claim  to  himself  any 


.benefit,  to  which  another  may  not  pretend,  as  well  as  he. 
For  as  to  the  strength  of  body,  the  weakest  has  strengtfi 
enough  to  kill  the  strongest,  either  by  secret  machination, 
or  by  confederacy  with  others,  that  are  in  the  same 
danger  with  himself. 

And  as  to  the  faculties  of  the  mind,  setting  aside  the 
arts  grounded  upon  words,  and  especially  that  skill  of 
proceeding  upon  general,  and  infallible  rules,  called  sci- 
ence; which  very  few  have^  and  but  in  few  things;  as 
being  not  a  native  faculty,  bom  with  us;  nor  attained, 
as  prudence,  while  we  look  after  somewhat  else,  I  find 
yet  a  greater  equality  amongst  men,  than  that  of  strength. 
For  prudence,  is  but  experience ;  which  equal  time,  equal- 
ly bestows  on  all  men,  in  those  things  they  equally  apply 
themselves  unto.  That  which  may  perhaps  make  such 
equality  incredible,  is  but  a  vain  conceit  of  one's  own  wis- 
dom, which  almost  all  men  think  they  have  in  a  greater 
degree,  than  the  vulgar ;  that  is,  than  all  men  but  them- 
selves, and  a  few  others,  whom  by  fame,  or  for  concur- 
Iring  with  themselves,  they  approve.  For  such  is  the  na- 
ture of  men,  that  howsoever  they  may  acknowledge  many 
others  to  be  more  witty,  or  more  eloquent,  or  more  learn- 
ed; yet  they  will  hardly  believe  there  be  many  so  wise 


I  as  themselves ;  for  they  see  their  own  wit  at  hand,  and 
other  men's  at  a  distance.  But  this  proveth  rather  that 
men  are  in  that  point  equal,  than  unequal.  For  there  is 
not  ordinarily  a  greater  sign  of  the  equal  distribution  of 
any  thing,  than  that  every  man  is  contented  with  his 

share. 

From  this  equality  of  ability,  ariseth  equality  of  hope 
in  the  attaining  of  our  ends.  And  therefore  if  any  two 
men  desire  the  same  thing,  which  nevertheless  they  can- 
not both  enjoy,  they  become  enemies;  and  in  the  way  to 
their  end,  which  is  principally  their  own  conservation, 
and  sometimes  their  delectation  only,  endeavour  to  des- 
troy, or  subdue  one  another.  And  from  hence  it  comes 
to  pass,  that  where  an  invader  hath  no  more  to  fear,  than 
another  man's  single  power ;  if  one  plant,  sow,  build,  or 
possess  a  convenient  seat,  others  may  probably  be  ex- 
pected to  come  prepared  with  forces  united,  to  dispossess, 
and  deprive  him,  not  only  of  the  fruit  of  his  labour,^  but 
also  of  his  life,  or  liberty.  And  the  invader  again  is  in 
the  like  danger  of  another. 

And  from  this  diffidence  of  one  another,  there  is  no 
way  for  any  man  to  secure  himself,  so  reasonable,  as 
anticipation ;  that  is,  by  force,  or  wiles,  to  master  the  per- 
sons of  all  men  he  can,  so  long,  till  he  see  no  other 
power  great  enough  to  endanger  him:  and  this  is  no 
more  than  his  own  conservation  reqxiireth,  and  is  gener- 
ally allowed.  Also  because  there  be  some,  that  taking 
pleasure  in  contemplating  their  own  power  in  the  acts  of 
conquest,  which  they  pursue  farther  than  their  security 
requires ;  if  others,  that  otherwise  would  be  glad  to  be 
at  ease  within  modest  bounds,  should  not  by  invasion  in- 
crease their  power,  they  would  not  be  able,  long  time, 
by  standing  only  on  their  defence,  to  subsist.  And  by 
consequence,  such  augmentation  of  dominion  over  men 


234 


LEVIATHAN 


i> 


ATURAL  CONDITION  OF  MANKIND 


235 


Pft^C  \<>\ 


being  necessary  to  a  man's  conservation,  it  ought  to  be  al- 
lowed him.^ 

Again,  menhave  no  pleasure,  but  on  the  contrary  a 
^eat  deal  of  griet,  m  keeping  company,  where  there  is 
^C)0'/lV1^|  jio  power  able  to  over-awe  them  all.  For  every  man  look- 
eth  that  his  companion  should  value  him',  at  the  same  rate 
he  sets  upon  himself :  and  upon  all  signs  of  contempt,  or 
undervaluing,  naturally  endeavours,  as  far  as  he  dares, 
(which  amongst  them  that  have  no  common  power  to 
keep  them  in  quiet,  is  far  enough  to  make  them  destroy 
each  other),  to  extort  a  greater  value  from  his  contem- 
ners, by  damage;  and  from  others,  by  the  example. 

So  that  in  the  nature  of  man,  we  find  three  principal 
causes  of  quarrel.  First,  competition;  second,  diffi- 
dence; thirdly,  glory. 

The  first,  maketh  men  invade  for  gain;  the  second, 
for  safety;  and  the  third,  for  reputation.  The  first  use 
violence,  to  make  themselves  masters  of  other  men's  per- 
sons, wives,  children,  and  cattle;  the  second,  to  defend 
them ;  the  third,  for  trifles,  as  a  word,  a  smile,  a  different 


/Compare  Human  Nature,  (M.  IV,  85).  "Seeing  this 
right  of  protecting  ourselves  by  our  own  discretion  and  force, 
proceedeth  from  danger,  and  that  danger  from  the  equality  be 
tween  men's  forces,  much  more  reason  is  there,  that  a  man  pre- 
vent such  equality  before  the  danger  cometh,  and  before  the  ne- 
cessity of  battle.  A  man  therefore  that  hath  another  man  in  his 
power  to  rule  or  govern,  to  do  good  to,  or  harm,  hath  right, 
by  the  advantage  of  this  his  present  power,  to  take  caution  at  his 
pleasure,  for  his  security  against  that  other  in  time  to  come. 
He  therefore  that  hath  already  subdued  his  adversary,  or  gotten 
into  his  power  any  other,  that  either  by  infancy,  or  weakness, 
is  unable  to  resist  him,  by  right  of  nature  may  take  the  best  cau- 
tion, that  such  infant,  or  such  feeble  and  subdued  person  can 
give  him,  of  being  ruled  and  governed  by  him  for  the  time  to 
come.  For  seeing  we  intend  always  our  own  safety  and  preser- 
vation, we  manifestly  contradict  that  our  intention,  if  we  will- 
ingly dismiss  such  a  one,  ^nd  suffer  him  at  once  to  gather 
strength  and  be  our  enemy.  Out  of  which  may  also  be  collected, 
that  irresistible  might,  in  the  state  of  nature,  is  right." 


^^ 


opinion,  and  any  other  sign  of  undervalue,  either  direct 
in  their  persons,  or  by  reflection  in  their  kindred,  their 
friends,  their  nation,  their  profession,  or  their  name. 

Hereby  it  is  manifest,  that  during  the  time  men  live 
without  a  common  power  to  keep  them  all  in  awe,  they 
are  in  that  condition  which  is  called  war ;  and  such  a  war, 
as  is  of  every  man,  against  every  man.  Foi^AR^onsist- 
eth  not  in  battle  onlv^orthiactoffighijag^ 
oTtime.  whercinJie^lLto  contrad  bybattleiisufficient- 
Iv  knowTTTlInd  therefore  the  notion  of  time,  is  to  be  con- 
adi^dThTthe  nature  of  war;  as  it  is  in  the  nature  of 
weather.     For  as  the  nature  of  foul  weather,  lieth  not 
in  a  shower  or  two  of  rain ;  but  in  an  inclination  thereto 
of  many  davs  together :  so  the  nature  of  war,  consisteth 
not  in  actual  fighting;  but  in  the  known  disposition  there- 
to, during  all  the  time  there  is  no  assurance  to  the  con- 
trary.   All  other  time  is  peace. 

Whatsoever  therefore   is   consequent  to   a   time   of 
war  where  every  man  is  enemy  to  every  man ;  the  same 
is  consequent  to  the  time,  wherein  men  live  without  other 
security,  than  what  their  own  strength,  and  their  own  in- 
vention shall  furnish  them  withal.     In  such  condition 
there  is  no  place  for  industry;  because  the  fruit  thereof 
is  uncertain:  and  consequently  no  culture  of  the  earth; 
no  navigation,  nor  use  of  the  commodities  that  may  be 
imported  bv  sea;  no  commodious  building;  no  instru- 
mcpts  of  moving,  and  removing,  such  things  as  require 
much  force;  no  knowledge  of  the  face  of  the  earth;  no 
account  of  ^ime;  no  arts;  no  letters;  no  society;  and 
which  is  worst  of  all,  continual  fear,  and  danger  of 
violent  death ;  and  the  life  of  man,  solitary,  poor,  nasty, 

brutish,  and  short.  , 

It  may  seem  strange  to  some  man,  that  has  not  well 

weighed  these  things;  that  nature  should  thus  dissociate. 


I 


236 


LEVIATUAN 


and  render  men  apt  to  invade,  and  destroy  one  another : 
and  he  may  therefore,   not  trusting  to  this   inference, 
made  from  the  passions,  desire  perhaps  to  have  the  same 
confirmed  by  experience.     Let  him  therefore  consider 
with  himself,  when  taking  a  journey,  he  arms  himself, 
and  seeks  to  go  well  accompanied ;  when  going  to  sleep, 
he  locks  his  doors;  when  even  in  his  house  he  locks  his 
chests;  and  this  when  he  knows  there  be  laws,  and  public 
officers,  armed,  to  revenge  all  injuries  shall  be  done  him ; 
what  opinion   he   has   of  his   fellow-subjects,   when   he 
rides  armed;  of  his  fellow  citizens,  when  he  locks  his 
doors;  and  of  his  children,  and  servants,  when  he  locks 
his  chests.    Does  he  not  there  as  much  accuse  mankind 
by  his  actions,  as  I  do  by  my  words  ?    But  neither  of  us 
accuse  man's  nature  in  it.     The  desires,  and  other  pas- 
sions of  man,  are  in  themselves  no  sin.    No  more  are  the 
actions,  that  proceed  from  those  passions,  till  they  know 
a  law  that  forbids  them :  which  till  laws  be  made  they  can- 
not know :  nor  can  any  law  be  made,  till  they  have  agreed 
upcMi  the  person  that  shall  make  it.* 


2  Compare  Leviathan,  (M.  Ill,  277).  "A  sin,  is  not  on- 
ly a  transgression  of  a  law,  but  also  any  contempt  of  the  legis- 
lator. For  such  contempt,  is  a  breach  of  all  his  laws  at  once^ 
And  therefore  may  consist,  not  only  in  the  commission  of  a  fact, 
or  in  speaking  of  words  by  the  laws  forbidden,  or  in  the  omis- 
sion of  what  the  law  commandeth,  but  also  in  the  intention,  or 
purpose  to  transgress.  For  the  purpose  to  break  the  law,  is 
some  degree  of  contempt  of  him,  to  whom  it  belongeth  to  see  it 
executed.  To  be  delighted  in  the  imagination  only,  of  being 
possessed  of  another  man's  goods,  servants,  or  wife,  without  any 
intention  to  take  them  from  him  by  force  or  fraud,  is  no  breach 
of  the  law,  that  saith,  TJwu  shalt  not  covet:  nor  is  the  pleasure 
a  man  may  have  in  imagining  or  dreaming  of  the  death  of  him, 
from  whose  life  he  expecteth  nothing  but  damage,  and  dis- 
pleasure, a  sin;  but  the  resolving  to  put  some  act  in  execution, 
that  tendeth  thereto.  For  to  be  pleased  in  the  fiction  of  that, 
which  would  please  a  man  if  it  were  real,  is  a  passion  so  adher- 
ent to  the  nature  both  of  man,  and  every  other  living  creature, 
is  to  make  it  a  sin,  were  to  make  sin  of  being  a  man.    The  con- 


NATURAL  CONDITION  OF  MANKIND  237: 

It  may  peradventure  be  thought,  there  was  never  such 
a  time  nor  condition  of  war  as  this ;  and  I  believe  it  was 
never  generally  so,  over  all  the  world :  but  there  are  many 
places,  where  they  live  so  now.  For  the  savage  people  in 
many  places  of  America,  except  the  government  of  sma  1 
families,  the  concord  whereof  dependeth  on  natural  lust 
have  no  government  at  all ;  and  live  at  this  day  m  that 
brutish  manner,  as  I  said  before.  Howsoever,  it  may  be 
perceived  what  manner  of  life  there  would  be,  where 
there  were  no  common  power  to  fear,  by  the  manner  of 
life  which  men  that  have  formerly  lived  under  a  peace- 
ful  government,  use  to  degenerate  into,  in  a  civil  war. 

■A      f;^«  nf  thi<;   has  made  me  think  them  too  severe,  both  to 
t^lrXs^  anf  ither^.That.  maintain,  that  the  fi-t  mot.ons  o 
"ind.  ihough  checked  w.th  the  f^r  o^^^^*!^^'^^^^ ^ih^rA 

commanded,  bo  tn«»i  every  ^»""~  .^  ^  -'  tboiiffh  it  never  ap- 
crime,  To  intend  to  stea.  -  ,^«;,  ^^e^the  Zughts"  of  J^, 
pear  m  word,  or  »« .  wr  uoa  y  something  done, 

Sn'^o^S  trth^faw-rTnVoVcre  to  the  -U  .aw,  may  be 
[&%rst.  that  wh^r^^^^^^^ 

cause  the  law  of  "^'""..'y^jTontrary  to  any  moral  virtue,  can 
tude,  arrogance,  and  all  t2«5  c°|"'^*[/  .  the  civil  law  ceasing, 
"•^-^^^  '^J°i^r  the"re  bdnTn^othef  law  remaining,  but  that 

Sfon  of  sovereign  power  can  be  ,=«PP°^f  ^*?,t«'VJeof  all 
^■t*rettrwa7"o?dated°^^^^^^^ 

^a"ltho^^Hr  pSerymTrtt^^^^^^^^^^ 


V 


238 


LEVIATHAN 


NATURAL  CONDITION  OF  MANKIND 


239 


But  though  there  had  never  been  any  time,  wherein' 
particular  men  were  in  a  condition  of  war  one  against 
another;  yet  in  all  times,  kings,  and  persons  of  sovereign 
authority,  because  of  their  independency,  are  in  continual 
jealousies,  and  in  the  state  and  posture  of  gladiators; 
having  their  weapons  pointing,  and  their  eyes  fixed  on 
one  another ;  that  is,  their  forts,  garrisons,  and  guns  up- 
on the  frontiers  of  their  kingdoms;  and  continual  spies 
upon  their  neighbours ;  which  is  a  posture  of  war.  But  be- 
cause they  uphold  thereby,  the  industry  of  their  subjects ; 
there  does  not  follow  from  it,  that  misery,  which  accom- 
panies the  liberty  of  particular  men. 

To  this  war  of  every  man,  against  every  man,  this 
also  is  consequent;  that  nothing  can  be  unjust.  The 
notions  of  right  and  wrong,  justice  and  injustice  have 
there  no  place.  Where  there  is  no  common  power,  there 
is  no  law:  where  no  law,  no  injustice.  Force,  and  fraug^ 
are  in  war  the  two  cardinal  virtues.  Justice,  and  injus- 
tice are  none  of  the  faculties  neither  of  the  body,  nor  mind. 
If  they  were,  they  might  be  in  a  man  that  were  alone  in 
the  world,  as  well  as  his  senses,  and  passions.    They  are 

from  the  beginning."  Also  Philosophical  Rudiments,  (M.  II, 
152).  "That  is  my  sin  iudeed,  which  committing  I  do  believe 
to  be  my  sin ;  but  what  I  believe  to  be  another  man's  sin,  I  may 
sometimes  do  that  without  any  sin  of  mine.  For  if  I  be  command- 
ed to  do  that  which  is  a  sin  in  him  who  commands  me,  if  I  do  it, 
and  he  that  commands  me  be  by  right  lord  over  me,  I  sin  not.  For 
if  I  wage  war  at  the  commandment  of  my  prince,  conceiving  the 
war  to  be  unjustly  undertaken,  I  do  not  therefore  do  unjust- 
ly; but  rather  if  I  refuse  to  do  it,  arrogating  to  myself  the 
knowledge  of  what  is  just  and  unjust,  which  pertains  only  to 
my  prince.  They  who  observe  not  this  distinction,  will  fall  into 
a  necessity  of  sinning,  as  oft  as  anything  is  commanded  them 
which  either  is,  or  seems  to  be  unlawful  to  them:  for 
if  they  obey,  they  sin  against  their  conscience;  and  if  they 
obey  not,  against  right.  If  they  sin  against  their  conscience, 
they  declare  that  they  fear  not  the  pains  of  the  world  to  come ; 
if  they  sin  against  right,  they  do.  as  much  as  in  them  lies, 
abolish  human  society  and  the  civil  Hfe  of  the  present  world." 


qualities,  that  relate  to  men  in  society,  not  in  solitude. 
It  is  consequent  also  to  the  same  condition,  that  there  be 
no  propriety,  no  dominion,  no  mine  and  thine  distinct; 
but  onlv  that  to  be  every  man's,  that  he  can  get;  and  for 
so  long,  as  he  can  keep  it/  And  thus  much  for  the  .1 
condition,  which  man  by  mere  nature  is  actually  placed 
in ;  though  with  a  possibility  to  come  out  of  it,  consisting 
pal-tlv  in  the  passions,  partly  in  his  reason. 

The  passions  that  incline  men  to  peace,  are  fear  01 

death ;  desire  of  such  things  as  are  necessary  to  comnio- 

,dious  living;  and  a  hope  by  their  industry  to  obtain 

I  them.      And  reason  suggesteth  convenient  articles  ot 

peace,  upon  which  men  may  be  dra%vn  to  agreement. 

These  articles,  are  they,  which  otherwise  are  called  t  le 

I^ws  of  Nature:  whereof  I  shall  speak  more  particularly, 

in  the  two  following  chapters. 

PARALLEL    CHAPTER    KKOM 

PHILOSOPHICAL   RUDIMENTS   CONCERNING 

GOVERNMENT. 
CHAPTER  I. 

OF  THE  STATE  OF  MEN  WITHOUT  CIVIL  SOCIETY. 

The  faculties  of  human  nature  may  be   reduced  untc 
four  kinds ;  bodily  strength,  experience,  reason,  passion. 


•  See  above  p.  147  «•  3-  and  compare  below  Chapter  XV 
•Compare  Philosophical  Rudiments,  (M.  II,  84  n.).  What 
is  objerted  by  some,  [hat  the  propriety .  of  goods,  'ven  be  ore 
he  constitution  of  cities,  was  found  m  f^jthers  of  fam.l  es 
that  obiection  is  vain;  because  I  have  already  declared,  that  a 
W1 V  rriktle  dtv  For  the  sons  of  a  family  have  a  propn- 
etrof  their  goods  granted  them  by  their  father,  distmgu.shed  in- 
deed from  the  rest  of  the  sons  of  the  same  family,  but  not  from 
fhe  propHety  of  the  father  himself.  But  the  fathers  of  divers 
familks?who  are  subject  neither  to  any  common  father  nor  lord, 
have  a  common  right  in  all  things. 


\ 


340 


LEVIATHAN 


NATURAL  CONDITION  OF  MANKIND 


^41 


Taking  the  beginning  of  this  following  doctrine  from 
these,  we  will  declare,  in  the  first  place,  what  manner  of 
inclinations  men  who  are  endued  with  these  faculties  bear 
towards  each  other,  and  whether,  and  by  what  faculty 
they  are  bom  apt  for  society,  and  to  preserve  themselves 
against  mutual  violence;  then  proceeding,  we  will  show 
what  advice  was  necessary  to  be  taken  for  this  business, 
and  what  are  the  conditions  of  society,  or  of  human 
peace;  that  is  to  say,  (changing  the  words  only),  what 
are  the  fundamental  laws  of  nature. 

2.  The  greatest  part  of  those  men  who  have  written 
aught  concerning  commonwealths,  either  .suppose,  or  re- 
quire us  or  beg  of  us  to  believe,  that  man  is  a  creature 
bom  fit*  for  society.  The  Greeks  call  him  C«5ov  noXcrcxov; 
and  on  this  foundation  they  so  build  up  the  doctrine  cf 
civil  society,  as  if  for  the  preservation  of  peace,  and  the 
government  of  mankind,  there  were  nothing  else  neces- 
sary than  that  men  should  agree  to  make  certain  cove- 
nants and  conditions  together,  which  themselves  should 
then  call  laws.  Which  axiom,  though  received  by  most,  is 
yet  certainly  false ;  and  an  error  proceeding  from  our  too 
slight  contemplation  of  human  nature.  For  they  who  shall 
more  narrowly  look  into  the  causes  for  which  men  come 


*Born  /it]  Since  we  now  see  actually  a  constituted  society 
among  men,  and  none  livmg  out  of  it,  since  we  discern  all  de- 
sirous of  congress  and  mutual  correspondence,  it  may  seem  a 
wonderful  kind  of  stupidity,  to  lay  in  the  very  threshold  of  this 
doctrine  such  a  stumbling  block  before  the  reader,  as  to  deny 
man  to  be  born  fit  for  society.  Therefore  I  must  more  plainly  say, 
that  It  IS  true  indeed,  that  to  man  by  nature,  or  as  man,  that  is, 
as  soon  as  he  is  born,  solitude  is  an  enemy;  for  infants  have 
need  of  others  to  help  them  to  live,  and  those  of  riper  years  to 
help  them  to  live  well.  Wherefore  I  deny  not  that  men  (even 
nature  compelling)  desire  to  come  together.  But  civil  societies 
are  not  mere  meetings,  but  bonds,  to  the  making  'whereof  faith 
and  compacts  are  necessary;  the  virtue  whereof  to  children  and 
tools,  and  the  profit  whereof  to  those  who  have  not  yet  tasted 


together,  and  delight  in  each  other's  company,  shall  easily 
find  that  this  happens  not  because   naturally   it  could 
happen  no  otherwise,  but  by  accident.    For  if  by  nature 
one  man  should  love  another,  that  is,  as  man,  there  could 
no  reason  be  returned  why  every  man  should  not  equal  y 
love  every  man,  as  being  equally  man;  or  why  he  should 
rather  frequent  those,  whose  society  affords  him  honour 
or  profit.    We  do  not  therefore  by  nature  seek  societv  for 
;fc^^^  «Wf.  but  that  we  "^"y  receive  some  honour  or 
profit  from  it;  these  we  desire  primarily,  that  second- 
arily.     How,  by  what  advice,  men  do  meet,  will  be  best 
known  by  observing  those  things  which  they  do  when 
they  are  met.     For  if  they  meet  for  traffic,  it  is  plain 
every  man  regards  not  his  fellow,  but  his  business ;  if 
to  discharge  some  office,  a  certain  market-friendship  is 
begotten,  which  hath  more  of  jealousy  in  it  than  true  love 
and  whence  factions  sometimes  may  arise,  but  good  will 
never  •  if  for  pleasure  and  recreation  of  mind,  every  man 
is  wont  to  please  himself  most  with  those  things  which 
stir  up  laughter,  whence  he  may,  according  to  the  nature 
of  that  which  is  ridiculous,  by  comparison  of  another 
man's  defects  and  infirmities,  pass  the  more  current  in  his 


the  miseries  which  accompany  its  defects,  is  altogether  un- 
knot-whence  Tt  happens,  that  those,  because  they  know  not 
whaTsiciety  is,  cannot  enter  into  it ;  Aese  because  .g^oran  of 
the  benefit  it  brings,  care  not  for  it.    Manifest  therefore  it  is, 

that  all  men,  because  they  are  bom  in  '"fa"'?'.  "%^™  ?"5e 
for  societv     Many  also,  perhaps  most  men,  either  through  de- 
fert  of  mtad  or  want  of  education,  remain  unfit  dunng  the  whole 
course  of  their  lives;  yet  have  they.  •"f='"t«„f„  ^f  ".^2^ ^ 
riper  years,  a  human  nature.    Wherefore  mnn  is  m^nf  flt  wr- 
r^^^tv  not  hv  na^-",  Knt  by  education.    Furthermore,  altnough 
r^an  we"e  bSm  in  "such  a  condition  as  to  desire  it,  it  follows  not 
Sat  he  therefore  were  bom  fit  to  enter  into  it.    For  it  is  one 
thfne  to  desire,  another  to  be  in  capacity  fit  for  what  we  desire 
for  lv°n  th^!who  through  their  pride,  will  not  ^oop  to  e^ua 
conditions,  without  which  there  can  be  no  society,  do  yet  desire 
it 


III 


242 


LEVIATHAN 


NATURAL  CONDITION  OF  MANKIND 


^43 


own  opinion.  And  although  this  be  sometimes  innocent 
and  without  offence,  yet  it  is  manifest  they  are  not  so 
much  delighted  with  the  society,  as  their  own  vain  glory. 
But  for  the  most  part,  in  these  kinds  of  meeting  we 
wound  the  absent;  their  whole  life,  sayings,  actions  arc 
examined,  judged,  condemned.  Nay,  it  is  very  rare  but 
some  present  receive  a  fling  as  soon  as  they  part ;  so  as 
his  reason  was  not  ill,  who  was  wont  always  at  parting  to 
go  out  last.  And  these  are  indeed  the  true  delights  of  so- 
ciety, unto  which  we  are  carried  by  nature,  that  is,  by 
those  passions  which  are  incident  to  all  creatures,  until 
either  by  sad  experience  or  good  precepts  it  so  fall  out, 
which  in  many  it  never  happens,  that  the  appetite  of  pres- 
ent matters  be  dulled  with  the  memory  of  things  past: 
without  which  the  discourse  of  most  quick  and  nimble 
men  on  this  subject,  is  but  cold  and  hungry. 

But  if  it  so  happen,  that  being  met  they  pass  their 
time  in  relating  some  stories,  and  one  of  them  begins  to 
tell  one  which  concerns  himself;  instantly  every  one  of 
the  rest  most  greedily  desires  to  speak  of  himself  too; 
if  one  relates  some  wonder,  the  rest  will  tell  you  mira- 
cles, if  they  have  them;  if  not,  they  will  feign  them. 
Lastly,  that  I  may  say  somewhat  of  them  who  pretend  to 
be  wiser  than  others :  if  they  meet  to  talk  of  philosophy, 
look,  how  many  men,  so  many  would  be  esteemed  mas- 
ters, or  else  they  not  only  love  not  their  fellows,  but  even 
persecute  them  with  hatred.  So  clear  is  it  by  experience 
to  all  men  who  a  little  more  narrowly  consider  human 
affairs,  that  all  free  congress  ariseth  either  from  mutual 
poverty,  or  from  vain  glory,  whence  the  parties  met  en- 
deavour to  carry  with  them  either  some  benefit,  or  to 
leave  behind  them  that  same  eddoxt/ieiv,  some  esteem 
an  honour  with  those,  with  whom  they  have  been  con- 
versant.   The  same  is  also  collected  by  reason  out  of  the 


definitions  themselves  of  will,  good,  honour,  profitable. 
For  when  we  voluntarily  contract  society,  in  all  manner 
of  society  we  look  after  the  object  of  the  will,  that  is, 
that  which  everyone  of  those  who  gather  together,  pro- 
pounds to  himself  for  good.      Now,  whatsoever    seems 
good,    is   pleasant,    and    relates     either    to   the    senses, 
or    the    mind.      But  all  the    mind's    pleasure    is    eith- 
er   glory,     (or    to    have    a    good   opinion    of    one's 
self),  or  refers  to  glory   in  the   end;   the  rest   are  sen- 
sual, or    conducing    to    sensuality,    which    may  be    all 
comprehended  under  the  word  conveniences,    AUjodetx 
therefore  is  either  for  gain,  or  for  glor^;  that  is,  not  so 
much  for  love  of  our  fellows,  as  fnrthe  love  of  our- 
I  selves.     But  no  society  can  be  great  or  lasting,  which 
b^ih^  from  vain  glory.     Because  that  glory  is  like  hon- 
our ;  if  all  men  have  it  no  man  hath  it,  for  they  consist  m 
comparison  and  precellence.     Neither  doth  the  society 
of  others  advance  any  whit  the  cause  of  my  glorymg  m 
myself ;  for  every  man  must  account  himself,  such  as  he 
can  make  himself  without  the  help  of  others.     But  though 
the  benefits  of  this  life  may  be  much  furthered  by  mu- 
tual help ;  since  yet  those  may  be  better  attained  to  by  do- 
minion than  by  the  society  of  others,  I  hope  no  body  will 
doubt,  but  that  mgp.^<<yqTri4<nuch  more  greediJ}LJ^£,car=- 
^i^^^JwJpt11rP,  if  all  fear  were  removed,  to  obtamjo- 
;:n;;n:;r2h^  to  gain  sockt^  we  muinherefore  re- 
gSITTth^t  the  original  of  aUjrea^nd  lasting  societies 
consisted  notirthe  mutual  good  Will  menjad  towards 
P^TFTtH^TTut  in  the  mutual  fear'^  theyjiad^  each 
othen 


*The  mutual  fear.]  It  is  objected:  it  is  so  ^^^^^9^^^^^^^^^^ 
men  should  grow  into  civil  soaeties  out  o^^^^^' ^^^^1,^^^ f^J^^ 
been  afraid  they  would  not  have  endured  each  other  s  looKS. 
They  presume,  fbelieve,  that  to  fear  is  nothing  else  than  to  be 


jr 


/h 


ui^^^  y^^i^t^  -  ^^/'^ 


244 


LEVIATHAN 


3-  The  cause  of  mutual  fear  consists  partly  in  the  na- 
tural equality  of  men,  partly  in  their  mutual  will  of  hurt- 
ing: whence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  we  can  neither  expect 
from  others,  nor  promise  to  ourselves  the  least  security. 
tor  If  we  look  on  men  full-grown,  and  consider  how  brit- 
tle the  frame  of  our  human  body  is,  which  perishing, 
all  Its  strength,  vigour,    and    wisdom    itself  perisheth 
with  It;  and  how  easy  a  matter  it  is,  even  for  the  weak- 
est  man  to  kill  the  strongest :  there  is  no  reason  why 
any  man,  trusting  to  his  own  strength,  should  conceive 
himself  made  by  nature  above  others.     They  are  equals 
who  can  do  equal  things  one  against  the  other;  but  they 
Who  can  do  the   greatest    things,   namely,    kill,  can  do 
equal  things.    All  men  therefore  among  themselves  are 
by  nature  equal ;  the  inequality  we  now  discern,  hath  its 
spring  from  the  civil  law. 
,^   .,/*•  AJLmetLin  the  state  nf  nature  have  a  Hpq.V^  and 
^will  to  hurt,  but  not  proceeding  from  the  same  cause, 
neither  equally  to  be  condemned.  For  one  man,  according 
to  that  natural  equality  which  is  among  us,  permits  as 
much  to  others  as  he  assumes  to  himself;  which  is  an  ar- 

affrighted.    I  comprehend  in  this  word  fear,  a  certain  foresiirht 

fiar    bit'  fr'H',r'"l*'  ''°  ^  ~°T^^  «'«•''  'h'  sole  property  o 
tear,  but  to  distrust,  suspect,  take  heed,  provide  so  that  thev 

s"ee''D"fhu  '?h;i"/"°  incident  to  the  fea'rfSl.  They  who  go  tS 
Sleep,  shut  their  doors ;  they  who  travel,  carry  their  swords  with 
them  because  they  fear  thieves.  Kingdoms  guard  thdr  coasts 
walls  ^JIhYm  r'^  ^°T  ?"d  castles;  cities  are  compact  with 
walls  and  all  for  fearof  neighbouring  kingdoms and'towns  Even 
the  strongest  armies,  and  most  accomplished  for  fight  yet  some 
tW  J?'"',^?^''"'  P'""'  =»=  ^'"'"8  «^^h  other's  power,  andTI 

hemsZs  bv' f«XT/- /*  ''a  '^'°"«^  ^'"  '^at  men  secure 
inemseives  by  flight  indeed,  and  m  corners,  if  they  think  thev 

canot  escape   otherwise ;    but  for    the    most    part    by  arms  and 

ioLT'Z   *tf^P°"'=   ^''"".«   "   happens,    that   daring   t™  come 
f9rth  they  know  each  other's  spirits.     But  then  if  thev  fiXt 


NATURAL  CONDITION  OF  MANKIND  24S 

gument  of  a  temperate  man,  and  one  that  rightly  values 
his  power.  Another,  supposing  himself  above  others,  will 
have  a  license  to  do  what  he  lists,  and  challenges  respect 
and  honour,  as  due  to  him  before  others;  which  is  an 
argument  of  a  fiery  spirit.  This  mans  will  to  hurt 
ariseth  from  vain  glory,  and  the  false  esteem  he  hath  of 
his  own  strength ;  the  other's  from  the  necessity  of  de- 
fending himself,  his  liberty,  and  his  goods,  against  this 

man's  violence.  ....-•         » 

5  Furthermore,  since  the  combat  of  wits  is  the  fiercest, 
the  greatest  discords  which  are,  must  necessarily  arise 
from  this  contention.    For  in  this  case   it   is   not  only 
odious  to  contend  against,  but  also  not  to  consent.    For 
not  to  approve  of  what  a  man  saith,  is  no  less  than  tacit- 
ly to  accuse  him  of  an  error   in  that   thing  which  he 
speaketh :  as  in  very  many  things  to  dissent,  is  as  much, 
as  if  you  accounted  him  a  fool  whom  you  dissent  from. 
Which  may  appear  hence,  that  there  are  no  wars  so 
sharply  waged  as  between  sects  of  the  same  religion, 
and  factions  of  the  same  commonweal,  where  the  con- 
testation is  either  concerning  doctrines  or  politic  pru- 
dence     And  since  all  the  pleasure  and  jollity  of  the  mmd 
consists  in  this,  even  to  get  some,  with  whom  comparing, 
it  may  find  somewhat  wherein  to  triumph  and  vaunt  it- 
self •  'it  is  impossible  but  men  must  declare  sometimes 
some  mutual  scorn  and  contempt,  either  by  laughter, 
or  by  words,  or  by  gesture,  or  some  sign  or  other ;  than 
which  there'- is  no  greater  vexation  of  mmd,  and  than 
from  which  there  cannot  possibly  arise  a  greater  desire 

to  do  hurt.  . 

6.  But  the  most  frequent  reason  why  men  desire  to 
hurt  each  other,  ariseth  hence,  that  many  men  at  the  same 
time  have  an  appetite  to  the  same  thing ;  which  yet  very 
often  they  can  neither  enjoy  in  common,  nor  yet  di- 


246 


LEVIATHAN 


Vide  It;  whence  .t  follows  that  the  strongest  must  have 
It,  and  who  is  strongest  must  be  decided  by  the  sword 
7-  Among  so  many  dangers  therefore,  as  the  natural 
lusts  of  men  do  daily  threaten  each  other  withal,  to  have 
a  care  of  one's  self  is  so  far  from  being  a  matter  scornful- 
ly to  be  looked  upon,  that  one  has  neither  the  power  nor 
wish  to  have  done  otherwise.    For  every  man  is  desir- 
ous of  what  is  good  for  him,  and  shuns  what  is  evil, 
but  chiefly  the  chiefest  of  natural  evils,  which  is  death; 
and  this  he  doth  by  a  certain  impulsion  of  nature,  no 
less  than  that  whereby  a  stone  moves  downward.    It  is 
therefore    neither    absurd     nor     reprehensible,    neither 
agamst  the  dictates  of  true  reason,  for  a  man  to  use  all    t 
his  endeavours  to  preserve  and  defend  his  body  and  the 
members  thereof  from  death  and  sorrows.       But  that 
which  is  not  contrary  to  right  reason,  that  all  men  ac- 
#count  to  be  done  justly,  and  with  right.     Neither  by  the 
Iword  Tight  is  anything  else  signified,  than  that  liberty 
which  every  man  hath  to  make  use  of  his  natural  fac- 
lulties  according  to   right    reason.     Therefore    the  first 
foundation  of  natural  right  is  this,  that  every  man  as 
much  as  m  him  lies  endeavour  to  protect  his  life  and 
'members. 

8.  But  because  it  is  in  vain  for  a  man  to  have  a  right 
to  the  end  if  the  right  to  the  necessary  means  be  denied 
him.  It  follows,  that  since  every  man  hath  a  right  to  pre- 
serve himself,  he  must  also  be  allowed  a  right  to  use 
all  the  means,  and  do  all  the  actions,  without  which  he 
cannot  present  himself. 

9-  Now  whether  the  means  which  he  is  about  to  use      " 
and  the  action   he   is  performing,   be   necessary  to  the 
preservation  of  his  life  and  members  or  not.  he  himself, 
by  the  right  of  nature,  must  be  judge.     For  if  it  be  con- 
trary to  right  reason  that  I  should  iudge  of  mine  own 


■• 


IhATURAL  condition  of  mankind  24/ 

oeril  sav.  that  another  man  is  judge.  Why  now,  be- 
Suse  he'  udgeth  of  what  concerns  me,  by  the  same  reas- 
r  Wuse  we  are  equal  by  nature,  will  I  judge  also  of 
tto^s  wWch  do  beLg  to  him.  Therefore  it  agrees 
wkh  rilt  reason,  that  is,  it  is  the  right  of  nature  that 
rludgf of  his  opinion,  that  is,  whether  it  conduce  to 

-r  NXeTath  ^t  to  every  one  a  ^^  aU^ 
is  it  was  lawful  for  every  man,  m  the  bare  state  of 
,^;ture,*  or  before  such  time  as  men  had  engaged  them- 

,  XT  by  any  covenants  or  bonds,  to  do  what  he  would, 
and  against  whom  he  thought  fit.  and  to  pos^-;"-' 

land  enjoy  all  what  he  would,  or  could  get.     Now  be- 


*/„  tne  bare  state  of  "-i^^-l  ^^^\^,'^rS.rt i^""^-' 
stood:  what  any  man  does  m  the  bare  sta^e  ot         ^^.^^^  ^^ 

rious  to  no  man;  ""t  that  in  such  a  sme  ^^^  . 

or  break  the  laws  of  nature .  lor  injusx  c      s  ^^^ 

poseth  human  laws,  such  as  '".Jj'' Xu  °-on«'^«<*'  **  s"*"'"**^ 
Now  the  truth  of  this  .P^Pf  •t'"^  *^^  the  artUks  immediately 
demonstrated  to  the  "'"d^  reader  in  the  a^  ^^^  ^^^_ 

foregoing;  but  b'"'"^^  thf o?emS   I  will  "ntr^     this  argu- 
clusion  makes  us  forget  the  premises,  i  wi" 
ment,  and  make  it  most  evident  to  a  single  view     ^     Y^^.^j^ 
hath  right  to  protect  himself,  f  .|Pf  fj^^s^^  ^ij  the  means  which 
The  same  man  therefore  hath  a  "8"  *°.Xh  article.    But  those 
necessarily  conduce  to  t^-s  end.  by  the  e  ghth  art.cie.  ^^  ^^^ 

are  the  necessary  means  which  he  shall  juag^^  ^^ 

rinth  article.  He  therefore  hfA  a  righ  to  "f^j^"  eservation; 
do  all  whatsoever,  he  shall  J^^S^.^^^'Xth  jt,  the  thing  done  is 
wherefore  by  the  judgment  ^l^2,Ti\m  Tree  it  is  therefore 
either  right  or  wrong  and  therefore  "8"^  i  ^  somewhat 
in  the  bare  state  of  nature,  &c.  But  «t  any  man  p 
to  tend  necessarily  to  his  P^^^^-rf'^iffS^^d  against  the  laws  of 
not  confidently  beheve  so.  he  ""y  is  bS.k  .?more  at  large  de- 

r*"";'  utSVeen'^obtct  d  by  ome:  if  a  son  kill  his  father 
clared.  It  hath  Men  «'i''Yv>»vf.  answered,  that  a  son  cannot.be 
doth  he  him  no  mjury?    l-^^J'.  ^Xgtate  of  nature,  as  being 

in  the  ninth  chapter. 


m 


248 


LEVIATHAN 


cause  whatsoever  a  man  would,  it  therefore  seems  good 
to  him  because  he  wills  it,  and  either  it  really  doth,  or 
at  least  seems  to  him  to  contribute  towards  his  preser- 
vation, (but  we  have  already  allowed  him  to  be  judge, 
m  the  foregoing  article,  whether  it  doth  or  not,  insomuch 
as  we  are  to  hold  all  for  necessary  whatsoever  he  shall 
esteem  so),  and  by  the  7th  article  it  appears  that  by 
the  right  of  nature  those  things  may  be  done,  and  must 
be  had,  which  necessarily  conduce  to  the  protection  of 
hfe  and  members,  it  follows,  tliat  in  the  state  of  nature 
to  have  all,  and  do  all,  is  lawful  for  all.     And  this  is  thai 
which  IS  meant  by  that  common  saying,  nature  hath  giv 
en  all  to  all.     From   whence   we  understand  likewise, 
^^^^  ^^^  .^^^^^  ^{  "^ture  profit  is  the  me^^s^yfro  ^f  r;^T.f' 
^^-  -t^ut  it  was  the  least  benefit  for  men  thus  to  have  a 
common  right  to  all  things.     For  the  effects  of  this  right/ 
are  the  same,  almost,  as  if  there  had  been  no  right  at  all  | 
For  although  any  man  might  say  of  every  thing,  this  is 
mine,  yet  could  he  not  enjoy  it,  by  reason  of  his  neigh- 
bour, who  having  equal  right  and  equal  power,  would 
pretend  the  same  thing  to  be  his. 

12.  If  now  to  this  natural  proclivity  of  men,  to  hurt 
each  other,  which  they  derive  from  their  passions,  but 
chiefly  from  a  vain  esteem  of  themselves,  you  add,  the 
nght  of  all  to  all,  wherewith  one  by  right  invades!  the 
other  by  right  resists,  and  whence  arise  perpetual  jeal- 
ousies and  suspicions  on  all  hands,  and  how  hard  a  thing 
It  IS  to  provide  against  an  enemy  invading  us  with  an 
intention  to  oppress  and  ruin,  though  he  come    with  a 
small  number,  and  no  great  provision ;  it  cannot  be  dc- 
I  nied  but  that  thejiatural  state  of  men,  before  they  ^n-   ' 
M  ^ered  into  society,  was  a  mere  war,  and  that  not  simply 
i  but  a  war  of  all  men  against  all  m^n      For  what  is  war' 
but  that  same  time  in  which  the  will  of  contesting  by 


*>L^uS^tA^>-^^\,.^JZ.    yOy^^^:<^^^  '^    ttJZL^^ 


:• 


>  ATURAL  CONDITION  OF  MANKIND  249 

force  is  fully  declared,  either  by  words  or  deeds?    The 
time  remaining  is  termed  PEACE. 

n  But  it  is  easily  judged  how  disagreeable  a  thing  to 
the  preservation  either  of  mankind,  or  of  each  smgle 
man;  a  perpetual  war  is.    But  it  is  perpetual  m  its  own 
nature;  because  in  regard  of  the  equality  of  those  that 
strive,  it  camiot  be  ended  by  victory.    For  m  this  state 
the  conqueror  is  subject  to  so  much  danger,  as  it  were 
to  be  accounted  a  miracle,  if  any,  even  the  most  strong, 
should  close  up  his  Ufe  with  many  years  and  old  age. 
They  of  America  are  examples  hereof,  even  m  this  pres- 
ent age :  other  nations  have  been  in  former  ages ;  which 
now  indeed  are  become  civil  and  flourishing   but  were 
then  few,  fierce,  short-lived,  poor,  nasty,  and  deprived 
of  all  that  pleasure  and  beauty  of  life,  which  peace  and 
society  are  wont  to  bring  with  them.    Whosoever  there- 
fore holds,  that  it  had  been  best  to  have  continued  in 
that  state  in  which  all  things  were  lawful  for  all  men, 
he  contradicts  himself.     For  every  man  by  natural  ne- 
cessity desires  that  which  is  good  for  him :  nor  is  there 
any  that  esteems  a  war  of  all  against  all.  which  necessar- 
ily adheres  to  such  a  state,  to  be  good  for  him.    And  so  i 
happens,  that  through  fear  of  each  other  we  think  it  fit 
to  rid  ourselves  of  this  condition,  and  to  get  some  fel- 
lows; that  if  there  needs  must  be  war,  it  may  not  yet  be 
against  all  men,  nor  without  some  helps. 

14  Fellows  are  gotten  either  by  constraint,  or  by  con- 
sent; by  constraint,  when  after  fight  the  conqueror 
mak  s  the  conquered  serve  him,  either  through  fear  of 
death  or  by  laying  fetters  on  him :  by  consent,  when 
t^'eZrLlJcty  to  help  each  other,  both  parties 
consenting  without  any  constraint.  But  the  conqueror 
mav  by  right  compel  the  conquered,  or  the  strongest  the 
weakeJ,  (as  a  man  in   health  may  one  that  is  sick,  or  he 


It 


arso 


LEVIATHAN 


that  is  of  riper  years  a  child),  unless  he  will  choose  to 
die,  to  give  caution  of  his  future  obedience.    For  since 
the  right  of  protecting  ourselves  according  to  our  own 
wills,  proceeded  from  our  danger,  and  our  danger  from 
our  equality,  it  is  more  consonant  to  reason,  and  more 
certain  for  our  conservation,  using  the  present  advantage 
to  secure  ourselves  by  taking  caution,  than  when  they 
shall  be  full  grown  and  strong,  and  got  out  of  our  power, 
to  endeavour  to  recover  that  power  again  by  doubtful 
fight.  And  on  the  other  side,  nothing  can  be  thought  more 
absurd,  than  by  discharging   whom    you    already  have 
weak  in  your  power,  to  make  him  at  once  both  an  enemy 
and  a  strong  one.     From  whence  we  may  understand 
.likewise  as  a  corollaryGn  the  natural  state  of  men,  that 
/  a  sure  and  irresistible  power  confers  the  right  of  do- 
}  minion  and  ruling  over  those  who  cannot  resist;  inso- 
much, as  the  right  of  all  things  that  can  be  done,  ad- 
heres essentially  and  immediately  unto  this  omnipotence 
hence  arising. 

15.  Yet  cannot  men  expect  any  lasting  preservation, 
continuing  thus  in  the  state  of  nature,  that  is,  of  war, 
by  reason  of  that  equality  of  power,  and  other  human  fac- 

tulties  they  are  endued  withal.  Wherefore  to  sppW  p^arp, 
where  there  is  any  hopes  of  obtaming  it,  and  where  there 
is  none,  to  enquire  out  for  atiyiliaries  of  war,  is  the  dic- 
tate of  right  reason,  that  is.  the  law  of  nature ;  as  shall 
be  showed  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

OF    THE     ^IRST     AND     SFXOND     NATURAL     LAWS,    AND  OF 

CONTRACTS. 

The  right  of  nature,  which  writers  commonly  call  jus 
naturale,  is  the  Uberty  each  man  hath,  to  use  his  own 
power,  as  he  will  himself,  for  the  preservation  of  his  own 
Mature;  that  is  to  say,  of  his  own  life;  and  consequentb-, 
of  doing  anything,  which  in  his  own  judgment  and 
reason,  he  shall  conceive  to  be  the  aptest  means  there- 

unto.  i_ 

By  LIBERTY,  is  understood,  according  to  the  proper 

signification  of  the  word,  the  absence  of  external  impedi- 
ments: which  impediments,  may  oft  take  ^way  Part  of  ^ 
man's  power  to  do  what  he  would ;  but  cannot  hmder  hm, 
from  using  the  power  left  him,  according  as  his  judg- 
ment, and  reason  shall  dictate  to  him.' 

I  A  LAW  OF  NATURE,  Ux  naturdis,  is  a  precept  or  gen- 
eral rule,  found  out  by  reason,  by  which  a  man  is  for- 
bidden to  do  that,  which  is  destructive  of  his  life,  or  taketh 
away  the  means  of  preserving  the  same ;  and  to  omit  tto, 
by  which  he  thinketh  it  may  be  best  preserved.  For 
though  they  that  speak  of  this  subject,  use  to  confound 

•Compare   H«.««„    Nature     (^^  ^V'  S^hndlsirrSt 
as  necessity  of  nature    «»^f^''^  J^    to  wUl J^^^^^^^  ^^j^, 

sibi,  that  which  IS  good  for  tn=";seives   an  ^^^^ 

is  hurtful ;  but  most  of  all,  the  terTrt)le  '"""y  °'        j  ^ijo  the 

from  whom  we  expect  »>?*  t'l^l°?^  °.^t  u'^ot  aga"nst  reason, 
greatest  of  WUy  Piun^m    he  losmg    .t  ,s  not  ^g     ^^^  ^.^^^ 

that  a  man  doth  all  he  can  "  P^^e^"  .  .   j        ^  against  reason. 

T^j^rz^irt^^'^  hi:  't:^r^ty&^  with ,..  the 

power  he  hath. 

•Compare  above  p. I59.  "•  5- 


252 


LEVIATHAN 


NATURAL  LAWS 


253 


jus,  and  lex,  right  and  law:  yet  they  ought  to  be  disn 
tinguished;  because  right,  consisteth  in  Hberty  to  do, 
or  to  forbear:  whereas  law.  detenu ineth.  and  bindeth  to 
nn<>  rwf  tl^fifn ;  SO  that  law,  and  right,  differ  as  much,  as 
obHgation,  and  Hberty ;  which  in  one  and  the  same  matter 
are  inconsistent.* 

And  because  the  condition  of  man,  as  hath  been  de- 
clared in  the  precedent  chapter,  is  a  condition  of  war  of 
every  one  against  every  one;  in  which  case  every  one 
IS  governed  by  his  own  reason;  and  there  is  nothing  he 
can  make  use  of,that  may  not  be  a  help  unto  him,  in  pre- 
serving his  life  against  his  enemies ;  it  followeth,  that  in 
such  a  condition,  every  man  has  a  right  to  every  thing; 
even  to  one  another's  body.  And  therefore,  as  long  as 
this  natural  right  of  every  man  to  every  thing  endureth, 
there  can  be  no  security  to  any  man,  how  strong  or  wise 
soever  he  be,  of  living  out  the  time,  which  nature  ordin- 
arily allow^th  men  to  live.  And  consequently  it  is  a  pre- 
cept,, or  general  rule  of  reason,  that  every  man,  ought 
to  endeavour  peace,  as  far  as  he  has  hope  of  obtaining  it; 
and  when  he  cannot  obtain  it,  that  he  may  seek,  and  iise^ 


"Compare  Philosophical  Rdiments,  (M.)  IL  186).  "Now 
natural  liberty  is  a  right  not  constituted,  but  allowed  by  the 
laws.  For  the  laws  being  removed,  our  liberty  is  absolute. 
This  is  first  restrained  by  the  natural  and  divine  laws;  the  res- 
idue is  bounded  by  the  civil  law;  and  what  remains,  may  again 
be  restrained  by  the  constitutions  of  particular  towns  and  so- 
cieties. There  is  great  difference  therefore  between  law  and 
right.  For  law  is  a  fetter,  right  is  freedom;  and  they  differ  like 
contraries."  Also  De  Cor  pore  Politico,  (M.  IV,  87).  "Reas- 
on is  no  less  of  the  nature  of  man  than  passion,  and  is  the  same 
in  all  men,  because  all  men  agree  in  the  will  to  be  directed  and' 
governed  in  the  way  to  that  which  they  desire  to  attain,  namely, 
their  own  good,  which  is  the  work  of  reason:  there  can  there- 
fore be  no  other  law  of  nature  than  reason,  nor  no  other  pre- 
cepts of  natural  law,  than  those  which  declare  unto  us  the  ways 
of  peace,  where  the  same  may  be  obtained,  and  of  defence  where 
it  may  not." 


)all  helps,  and  advantages  of  war.    The  first  branch  of  , 

which  r^le.  containeth  the  first,  and  fundamenal  law  I  I  ^^^ 
of  nature;  which  is.  '-  -"''  f"-'  ""^  ^"""^  »•     ^H 
second,  the  sum  of  the  right  of  nature ;  which  is,  by 
all  means  we  can,  to  defend  ourselves.  _ 

From  this  fundamental  law  of  nature,  by  which  men 
are  commanded  to  endeavour  peace,  is  derived  this  f^      yj  > 
•ondjav^  that  a  man  be  willing,  when  others  ^^re  so  too    n. 
asl^orth.  as  for  peace,  and  defence  of  hmselfheshaU 
thLk  it  necessary,  to  lay  down  th^s  nght  to  al   tJ^^ngs 
and  be  contented  with  so  much  hberty  «f  .'"^^  f  ^l^^M 
as  he  would  allow  other  men  against  himself,     bor  as 
long  as  every  man  holdeth  this  right  of  doing  any  thmg 
he  liketh;  so  long  are  all  men  in  th^cond.tlon  of  war 
But  if  other  men  will  not  lay  down  their  right,  as  wdl  a 
he;  then  there  is  no  reason  for  anyone,  to  divest  h  mself 
of  his:  for  that  were  to  expose  himself  to  prey,  which  no 
man  is  bound  to,  rather  than  to  dispose  himself  to  peace 
This"  is  that  law  of  the  Gospel ;  whatsoever  you  require 
that  others  should  do  to  you,  that  do  ye  to  them     And 
that  law  of  all  men,  quod  tibi  fieri  non  vvsalteri  ne  fecm 
To  lay  down  a  man's  right  to  any  thing,  is  to  it^« 
himself  of  the  liberty,  of  hindering  another  of  the  benefi 
of  his  own  right  to  the  same.    For  he  chat  ^enouncetl^  or 
passeth  away  his  right,  giveth  not  to  any  other  man  a 
Lht  which  he  had  not  before ;  because  there  .s  nothing  o 
^hich  e,ery  man  had  not  right  by     nature-  Dut  on^. 
standeth  out  of  his  way,  that  he  "^^y  ^^J^^  ^'^.7"  °"^. 
inal  right,  without  hindrance  from  him;  not  without  h.n 
Trance  fr^m  another.    So  that  the  effect  which  redound- 
eth  to  one  man,  by  another  man's  defect  of  right,  1    bu 
so  much  diminution  of  impediments  to  the  use  of  his 

own  ris:ht  original.  .        . 

Right  is  laid  aside,  either  by  simply  renouncing  it. 


/ 


NATURAL  LAWS 


255 


«54 


LEVIATHAN 


/  or  by  transferring  it  to  another.    By  simply  renouncing  ; 
when  he  cares  not  to  whom  the  benefit  thereof  redound- 


I 


cth.  By  transferring;  when  he  intendeth  the  benefit 
thereof  to  some  cetam  person,  or  persons.  And  when  a 
man  hath  in  either  manner  abandoned,  or  granted  away 
his  right;  then  is  he  said  to  be  obliged,  or  bound,*  not 
to  hinder  those,  to  whom  such  right  is  granted,  or  aband- 
oned, from  the  benefit  of  it :  and  that  he  ought,  and  it  is 
his  DUTY,  not  to  make  void  that  voluntary  act  of  his  own : 
and  that  such  hindrance  is  injustice,  and  injury,  as 
being  sme  jure;tht  right  being  before  renoimced,  or  trans- 
ferred. So  that  injury,  or  injustice,  in  the  controversies 
of  the  world,  is  somewhat  like  to  that,  which  in  the  dis- 
putations of  scholars  is  called  absurdity.  For  as  it  is  there 
called  an  absurdity,  to  contradict  what  one  maintained  in 
the  beginning:  so  in  the  world,  it  is  called  injustice,  and 
injury,  voluntarily  to  undo  that,  which  from  the  beginning 
he  had  voluntarialy  done.  The  way  by  which  a  man  either 
simply  renounceth,  or  transferreth  his  right,  is  a  declar- 
ation, or  signification,  by  some  voluntary  and  sufficient 
sign,  or  signs,  that  he  doth  so  renounce,  or  transfer;  or 
hath  so  renounced,  or  transferred  the  same,  to  him  that 
accepteth  it.  And  these  signs  are  either  words  only,  or 
actions  only ;  or,  as  it  happeneth  most  often,  both  words, 
and  actions.  And  the  same  are  the  bonds,  by  which  men 
are  bound,  and  obliged :  bonds,  that  have  their  strength, 
not  from  their  own  nature,  for  nothing  is  more  easily 
broken  than  a  man*s  word,  but  from  fear  of  some  evil 
consequence  upon  the  rupture. 

Whensoever  a  man  transferreth  his  right,  or  renounc- 
eth it;  it  is  either  in  consideration  of  some  right  recip- 

*Compare  Philosophical  Rudiments,  (M.  II.  no).  "All  obli- 
gation derives  from  contract."  (M.  II.  183).  "To  follow  what 
is  prescribed  by  lazu,  is  duty;  whr.t  by  counsel,  is  free  will." 


rocally  transferred  to  himself;  or  for  some  other  good 
he  hopeth  for  thereby.    For  it  is  a  voluntary  act :  and  of 
the  voluntary  acts  of  every  man,  the  object  is  some 
good  to  himself.     And  therefore  there  be  some  rights, 
which  no  man  can  be  understood  by  any  words  or  other 
signs,  to  have  abandoned,  or  transferred.     As  first  a 
mS  camiot  lay  down  the  right  of  resisting  them. Jh^^ 
assault  him  by  force,  to  take  away  his  life;  because  he 
cannot  be  understood  to  aim  thereby,  at  any  good  to 
himself.    The  same  may  be  said  of  wounds,  and  chams, 
and  imprisonment;  both  because  there  is  no  benefit  con- 
sequent to  such  patience;  as  there  is  to  the  pafence  of 
suffering  another  to  be  wounded,  or  imprisoned:  as  also 
because  a  man  cannot  tell,  when  he  seeth  nien  Proceed 
against  him  by  violence,  whether  they  intend  his  death 
bf  not.    And  lastly  the  motive,  and  end  for  which  this 
renouncing,  and  transferring  of  right  is  int;oduced,  is 
nothing  else  but  the  security  of  a  i"^"  «  P^'^°"' /" 'V' 
life,  and  in  the  means  of  so  preserving  hfe,  as  not  to  be 
weary  of  it.    And  therefore  if  a  man  by  words  or  other 
!^S7  seem  to  despoil  himself  of  the  end,  for  which 
Ee  sS^were  intended;  he  is  not  to  be  understood  as 
Jhe  mSnt  it,  or  that  it  was  his  will;  but  that  he  was 
ignorant  of  how  such  words  and  actions  were  to  be  in- 
terpreted.® 

making  of  a  <:om'J°"''f'''''rnfdTfend?ng  himself.  Also  he 
of  defending  another;  but  not  of  detenamg  mm  ^^^ 

obligeth  himself,  to  ^^^f^^'^'weU  not  But  to  covenant  to 
punishing  of  another:  but  P^^^™^^"  "°„other  unless  he  that 
assist  the  sovereign,   m  domg  ^urt  to  ^mottier,  u  ^^.^ 

so  covenanteth  have  a  nght  ^^^"^^j'^'t'^r/efo  e  that  the  right 
a   right   to   pun.sh.     It   is   "amfest    tnere  o  represent 

which   the   commonwealth,   that   is,   ne,   or   "'^^    .  .{,  „{ 

Thath  to  punish,  is  not  grounded  °"  =",7 J^^     H' b^*"'^"*' 
thf  .subiects     But  I  have  also  showed  formerly.  "}at  Deio  c 
institution  of  commonwealth,  every  man  had  a  nght   to  every 


256 


LEVIATHAN' 


I 


The  mutual  transferring  of  right,  is  that  which  men 

call  CONTRACT. 

There  is  difference  between  transferring  of  right  to 
the  thing;  and  transferring,  or  tradition,  that  is  delivery 
of  the  thing  itself.  For  the  thing  may  be  delivered  to- 
gether with  the  translation  of  the  right;  as  in  buying 
and  selling  with  ready-money ;  or  exchange  of  goods,  or 
lands:  and  it  may  be  delivered  some  time  after. 

Again,  one  of  the  contractors,  may  deliver  the  thing 
contracted  for  on  his  part,  and  leave  the  other  to  perform 
his  part  at  some  determinate  time  after,  and  in  the  mean 
time  be  trusted;  and  then  the  contract  on  his  part,  is 
called  PACT,  or  covenant:  or  both  parts  may  contract 
now,  to  perform  hereafter:  in  which  cases,  he  that  is  to 
perform  in  time  to  come,  being  trusted,  his  performance 
is  called  keeping  of  promise,  or  faith ;  and  the  failing  of 
performance,  if  it  be  voluntary,  violation  of  faith.^ 

When  the  transferring  of  right,  is  not  mutual:  but 
bne  of  the  parties  transferreth,  in  hope  to  gain  thereby 
friendship,  or  service  from  another,  or  from  his  friends; 
Dr  in  hope  to  gain  the  reputation  of  charity,  or  magnan- 


thing,  and  to  do  whatsoever  he  thought  necessary  to  his  own 
preservation;  subduing,  hurting,  or  killing  any  man  in  order 
thereunto.  And  this  is  the  foundation  of  that  right  of  punishing, 
which  is  exercised  in  every  commonwealth.  For  the  subjects 
did  not  g^ve  the  sovereign  that  right;  but  only  in  laying  down 
theirs,  strengthened  him  to  use  his  own,  as  he  should  think  fit, 
for  the  preservation  of  them  all:  so  that  it  was  not  given,  but 
left  to  him,  and  to  him  only;  and  (excepting  the  limits  set 
him  by  natural  law)  as  entire,  as  in  the  condition  of  mere  nature, 
knd  of  war  of  every  one  against  his  neighbor." 

•Compare  De  Cor  pore  Politico,  (M.  IV.  221).  "So  that 
the  difference  between  a  covenant  and  a  law,  standeth  thus:  in 
pimple  covenant,  the  action  to  be  done,  or  not  done,  is  first  limit- 
ed and  made  known,  and  then  followeth  the  promise  to  do  or  not 
do;  but  in  a  law,  the  obligation  to  do  or  not  to  do.  precedeth, 
and  the  declaration  what  is  to  be  done,  or  not  done,  followeth 
after." 


NATURAl.  LAWS 


2S7 


in.ity  or  to  deliver  his  mind  from  ^"^^  ^\;\^Z- 

^Sn;  or  in  hope  o.  '""^;'^'-"S to    s  "S 
tract,  but  n^^Tv_FREE-GiFT,  GRACE,  wincn 

one  and  the  same  thing.  .  , 

time  present,  or  past;  as   /  groe.  ^  f^'  ^  ^    |„. 

;ra.T:;i-^r;S;«.-=»o,.o,.He 

of  ,orf,;  i«ti"«  *«  oon.e<iu«>ce  »'  »"»"•  ^^. 

,.„„  o<  '<''^™^»:TwhTl™rt»c«fra' 

inference,  of  any  contract,  is  wna.. 
ones  the  will  of  the  contractor. 

'Wordr  alone,  if  they  be  of  the  time  to  come    and 
conl  a  bare  promise,  are  an  insuihc.nt  -^  o^a  free 
gift,  and  therefore  not  obhgatory      For    f  they  D 
fhe  time  to  come,  as  to-morrow  J  mil  ^-•^' J^^^f  ^^^ 
sign  I  have  not  given  yet,  and  «r  J^^^^^J  ^.ft 
rSt  is  not  transferred   but  -—  ^f/J^  .me 
bv  some  other  act      But  11  me  wui 

t  ds   .'/o^.oc  ium  esse  eras,  and  eras  'iobo;^^^-^^ 
betwe;n  I  mil  that  this  be  thine  "'-"»^''';«''.;"^:  !^^, 
,,.e  it  thee  to.norro.;  ^or ^^^jor,  ImU  .nj.jo^r^ 
manner  of  speech,  signifies  an  act  of  the  wi     P 
but  in  the  latter,  it  signifies  a  promise  of  an  act  of 


358 


LHVIATHAN 


will  to  come:  and  therefore  the  former  words,  being 
of  the  present,  transfer  a  future  right;  the  latter,  that 
be  of  the  future,  transfer  nothing.  But  if  there  be  other 
signs  of  the  will  to  transfer  a  right,  besides  words; 
then,  though  the  gift  be  free,  yet  may  the  right  be  un- 
derstood to  pass  by  words  of  the  future :  as  if  a  man  pro- 
pound a  prize  to  him  that  comes  first  to  the  end  of  a 
race,  the  gift  is  free;  and  though  the  words  be  of  the 
future,  yet  the  right  passeth :  for  if  he  would  not  have 
his  words  so  be  understood,  he  should  not  have  let  them 
run. 

In  contracts,  the  right  passeth,  not  only  where  the 
words  are  of  the  time  present,  or  past,  but  also  where 
they  are  of  the  future:  because  all  contract  is  mutual 
translation,  or  change  of  right;  and  therefore  he  that 
promiseth  only,  because  he  hath  already  received  the 
benefit  for  which  he  promiseth,  is  to  be  understood  as 
if  he  intended  the  right  should  pass:  for  unless  he  had 
been  content  to  have  his  words  so  understood,  the  other 
would  not  have  performed  his  part  first.  And  for  that 
cause,  in  buying,  and  selling,  and  other  acts  of  contract, 
a  promise  is  equivalent  to  a  covenant;  and  therefore 
obligatory. 

He  that  performeth  first  in  the  case  of  a  contract, 
is  said  to  merit  that  which  he  is  to  receive  by  the  per- 
formance of  the  other ;  and  he  hath  it  as  due.  Also  when 
a  prize  is  propounded  to  many,  which  is  to  be  given  to 
him  only  that  winneth;  or  money  is  thrown  amongst 
many,  to  be  enjoyed  by  them  that  catch  it;  though 
this  be  a  free  gift;  yet  so  to  win,  or  so  to  catch,  is  to- 
merit,  and  to  have  it  as  due.  For  the  right  is  trans- 
ferred in  the  propounding  of  the  prize,  and  in  throwing 
down  the  money ;  though  it  be  not  determined  to  whom, 
but  by  the  event  of  the  contention.    But  there  is  between 


NATURAL  LAWS 


299 


there  two  sorts  of  merit,  this  difference,  that  in  con- 
tract, 1  merit  by  virtue  of  my  own  power,  and  the  con- 
tractor's need ;  but  in  this  case  of  free  gift,  I  am  en- 
abled  to  merit  only  by  the  benignity  of  the  giver:  in 
contract,  I  merit  at  the  contractor's  hand  that  he  should 
depart  with  his  right ;  in  this  case  of  gift,  I  merit  not 
that  the  giver  should  part  with  his  right;  but  that  when 
he  has  parted  with  it,  it  should  be  mine,  rather  than 
another's     And  this  I  think  to  be  the  meanmg  of  that 
distinction  of  the  Schools,  between  meritum  congrui,  and 
meritum  condigni    For  God  Almighty,  having  promised 
Paradise  to  those  men,  hoodwinked  with  carnal  desires, 
that  can  walk  tlirough  this  world  according  to  the  pre- 
cepts, and  limits  prescribed  bv  him;  they  say,  he  that 
shall  so  walk,  shall  merit  Paradise  ex  congruo.    But  be- 
cause no  man  can  demand  a  right  lo  it,  ^y^J^^^Y'^J^e 
cousness,  or  any   other  power  in  himself,  but  by  the 
free  jjrace  ol  God  only ;  they  say,  no  man  can  merit  Far  ■ 
adise%.r  condigno.     This  I  say,  I  think  is  the  meamm. 
of  that  distmction;  but  because  disputers  do  not  agre. 
upon  the  signification  of  their  own  terms  of  art,  longe. 
Ihan  it  serves  their  turn;  I  will  not  affirm  any  thing  of 

their  meaning:  only  U.is  I  say;  -^f^,  ^,  ^  V' St  win" 
definitely,  as  a  prize  to  be  contended  for,  he  taat  wm 
neth  meriteth,  anc  may  claim  the  prize  as  due. 

If  a  covenant  be  made,  wherein  neither  of  the  parties 
perform  presently,  but  trust  one  -f  er ;  in^he  condit  o^ 
of  mere  nature,  which  is  a  condition  of  ^ar  of  e^iT 
man  against  every  man,  upon  any  ^--^^^^^^^^^ 
it  is  void :  but  if  there  be  a  common  power  set  over 
hem  both,  with  right  and  force  sufficient  ^o^^^^^^ 
fnrmance    it  is  not  void.     For  he  that  performe  h  first, 
has  no  L-ance  the  other  will  perform  after;  because 
the  bonds  of  words  are  too  weak  to  bridle  men's  ambition. 


-»^ 


260 


LEVIATHAN 


NATURAL  LAWS 


261 


^^^ 


fA 


Hvarice,  anger,  and  other  passions,  without  the  fear  of 
some  coercive  power;  which  in  the  condition  of  mere  na- 
ture, where  all  men  are  equal,  and  judges  of  the  justness 
of  their  own  fears,  cannot  possibly  be  supposed.  And 
therefore  he  which  performeth  first,  does  but  betray  him- 
self to  his  enemy ;  contrary  to  the  right,  he  can  never  aban- 
don, of  defending  his  life,  and  means  of  living. 

But  in  a  civil  estate,  where  there  is  a  power  set  up 
to  constrain  those  that  would  otherwise  violate  their  faith, 
that  fear  is  no  more  reasonable;  and  for  that  cause,  he 
which  by  the  covenant  is  to  perform  first,  is  obliged  so  to 
do. 

The  cause  of  fear,  which  maketh  such  a  covenant 
invalid,  must  be  always  something  arising  after  the  cov- 
enant made;  as  some  new  fact,  or  other  sign  of  the 
will  not  to  perform :  else  it  cannot  make  the  covenant  void. 
For  that  which  could  not  hinder  a  man  from  promising, 
ought  not  to  be  admitted  as  a  hindrance  of  performing. 

He  that  transferreth  any  right,  transferreth  the  means 
of  enjoying  it,  as  far  as  lieth  in  his  power.  As  he  that  sell- 
eth  land,  is  understood  to  transfer  the  herbage,  and  what- 
soever grows  upon  it :  nor  can  he  that  sells  a  mill  turn 
away  the  stream  that  drives  it.  And  they  that  give  to  a 
man  the  right  of  government  in  sovereignty,  are  under- 
stood to  give  him  the  right  of  levying  money  to  maintain 
soldiers ;  and  of  appointing  magistrates  for  the  administra- 
tion of  justice. 

To  make  covenants  with  brute  beasts,  is  impossible; 
because  not  understanding  our  speech,  they  understand 
not,  nor  accept  of  any  translation  of  right ;  nor  can  trans- 
late any  right  to  another:  and  without  mutual  accepta- 
tion, there  is  no  covenant.'' 


'Compare    Levtathan,    (M.  Ill,  257).     "Over  natural  fools. 


I 


Tn  make  covenant  with  God,  is  impossible,  but  by 

supernatural,  or  '^>  '"^  '  ^^  ^^^^  not  whether  our 

and  in  his  name:  for  otherwise  w  ,       ^      t^at 

i^tif  fVip  law  that  binds  them. 
The  matter  or  subject  of  a  covenant,  is  always  some- 

u-  th^Skth  under  deliberation;  for  to  covenant,  is 
thing  that  ialletn  unuci  ^         ^^ 

an  act  of  the  --^''■'''^^\C.^l\ZTs'::LtocA  to  be 
of  deliberation;  and  »^ f^^f  ?^  ^^^^^^^  possible  for  him 
something  to  come ;  and  which  is  juagea  p 

that  covenanteth.  to  perform.  ^^  ^ 

And  therefore,  to  P'°f  •^^"^^^"f '^ve  impossible 

impossible,  ^n^bir  wastoiCS:  thlToven- 
afterwards  which  befor   was  t^^^  ^^^  ^^.^^  .^^,,^ 

ant  IS  valid,  and  ^^'^^f '?^^^^^^  impossible,  to  the  un- 

yet  to  the  value;  or.f^^^^^^^^  ^^^  ,,  is  possible: 

feigned  endeavour  of  periomim^  as 

for  to  more  no  man  can  be  obliged 

1      Men  are  freed  of  tl-r  covenant   ^S.ran^e.'i s'S.e 
I^^^Sionfr^^^^^^^^         the  restitution 

Kse  they  had  never   P°''Yh,*°o?!=' and   consequently,  never 
understand   the   consequences  the«°\j   a    ^^  ^^"^'<^'.nA 

took  upon  them  to  a"t"°"^*t,eraselves  a  commonwealth.     And 
they  must  do  that  make  to  theraselves  a  ^^^^^  away  the 

as  those  from  whom  nature  or  acciaei«  ^j,„„ 

^otce  of  all  laws  in  Kenerall  so  aho  evenr  ma^f^^  ^ath  Uken 
any  accident,  not  ?>•<>=«<*'"? /XLnv  particular  law,  is  excused, 
rVe  r-Ti?  ^^otf  and-Ts^Ko^pW  *at  law  «  no  Uiw 
to  him." 


362 


LEVIATHAN 


NATURAL  LAWS 


«63 


rhV'oW-^ '^'  '^'"^  *  '^fansferring  of  that  right,  in  which 
the  obhgaticm  consisted. 

I       Covenants  entered  into  by  fear,  in  the  condition  of 
/mere  nature,  are  obligatory.    For  example,  if  I  covenant 

IT  ^'^"'"'"^  °'  '''^'''  ^""^  "y  "'f^'  to  »n  enemy ;  I 
am  bound  by  .t :  for  it  is  a  contract,  wherein  one  receiveth 

Ae  benefit  of  hfe;  the  other  is  to  receive  money,  or  service 

IZa!-  ^"V"'^'^"'"*'^'  ^''^'^  "°  °ther  Ia;v,  as  in  the 
condition  of  mere  nature,  forbiddeth  the  performance,  the 
covenant  .s  valid.  Therefore  prisoners  of  war,  if  trusted 
witfi  Ae  payment  of  their  ransom,  are  obliged  to  pay  it: 
and  If  a  weaker  prince,  make  a  disadvantageous  peace 

as  hath  been  said  before,  there  ariseth  some  new,  and  jus 

iTl-      ^  ^""'  '°  ''^'''^  "^y'^'^  f^-"  -  thief 
by  promising  him  money,  I  am  bound  to  pay  it,  till  the 

cml  hw  discharge  me.    For  whatsoever  /may  law  1 

do  without  obligation,  the  same  I  may  lawfully  covenant  to 

that  hath  passed  away  his  right  to  one  man   to-day 
hath  It  not  to  pass  to-morrow  to  another:  and  therefore 
the  later  promise  passeth  no  right,  but  is  null 
j       A  covenant  not  to  defend  myself  from  force,  by  force 
lis  always  void.    For,  as  I  have  showed  befor^  no  man 
can  transfer,  or  lay  down  his  right  to  save  himU  fZ 
death,  wounds,  imprisonment,  the  avoiding  whereof  is 
the  only  end  of  laying  down  any  right;  L  there  oe 
he  promise  of  not  resisting  force,  in  no  covenant  trans! 
ferreth  any  right ;  nor  is  obliging.  For  though  a  man  may 
covenant  thus,  unless  I  do  so,  or  so,  kill  L;  heTaZ^ 
covenant  thus,  unless  I  do  so,  or  so.  I  ^ill  not  rLTyou 


when  you  come  to  kill  me.  For  man  by  nature  chooseA 
Sie  lesser  evil,  which  is  danger  of  death  m  resisting; 
rather  than  the  greater,  which  is  certain  and  Presen Uieath 
in  not  resisting.  And  this  is  granted  to  be  true  by  all  men 
n  that  they  lead  criminals  to  execution,  and  prison,  with 
armed  mS  notwithstanding  that  such  criminah  have  con- 
sented to  the  law,  by  which  they  are  condemned. 

A  covenant  to  accuse  oneself,  without  assurance  of 
nardon.  is  likewise  invalid.  For  in  the  condition  of  nature, 
wheS^eU  man  is  judge,  there  is  no  place  for  accusa- 
d«^    and  in  the  civil  state,  the  accusation  is  followed 
Z  pmlshment ;  which  being  force,  a  man  is  not  obliged 
L;  to  resist.    The  same  is  also  true,  of  *e  a^u     ^'l 
of  those  by  whose  condemnation  a  man  falls  into  misery , 
Z  of  a   ather.  wife,  or  benefactor.    For  the  testimony  of 
ch  an  als'er,  if  it  be  not  willingly  given    s  presumed 
to  be  corrupted  by  nature ;  and  therefore  not  to  be  re 
ceived :  and  where  a  man's  testimony  is  not  to  be  credited, 
he  is  not  bound  to  give  it.    Also  accusations  up«n  ortur^ 
are  not  to  be  reputed  as  testimonies.    F^j^  torture  'S  to  ^ 
used  but  as  means  of  conjecture,  and  light    n  he  further 
examination,  and  search  of  truth:  and  -^at  ^«  m  that  ^^ 
confessed,  tendeth  to  the  ease  of  hmi  ^^'J^^^^i 
„«t  to  the  informing  of  the  torturers :  and  therefore  ougni 
Z  o  Sve  the^edh  of  a  sufficient  testimony :  for  whether 
hrdeUvTr  himself  by  true,  or  false  accusation,  he  does  it 
hv  the  rieht  of  preserving  his  own  hfe. 
''  ?he  f^ce  of  words,  being,  as  I  have  fo-er^  ""^ed 
too  weak  to  hold  men  to  the  performance  of  their  cov 
raJsf there  are  in  man's  nature,  but  two  -gin^ 

helps  to  strengthen  it.    And  those  ^^J  «*^;tw  or 
the  consequence  of  breaking  their  word ,  or  a  glory, 
pride  in  appearing  not  to  need  to  break  it.  T^.s  latte^  «  a 
generosity  too  rarely  found  to  be  presumed  on,  especially 


1 


\ 


264 


LEVIATHAN 


NATURAL  LAWS 


365 


in  the  pursuers  of  wealth,  command,  or  sensual  pleasure ; 
which  are  the  greatest  part  of  mankind.    The  passion  to 
be  reckoned  upon,  is  fear ;  whereof  there  be  two  very  gen- 
eral objects :  one,  the  power  of  spirits  invisible ;  the  other, 
the  power  of  those  men  they  shall  therein  offend.    Of  these 
two,  though  the  former  be  the  greater  power,  yet  the  fear 
of  the  latter  is  commonly  the  greater  fear.    The  fear  of 
the  former  is  in  every  man,  his  own  religion :  which  hath 
place  in  the  nature  of  man  before  civil  society.     The 
latter  hath  not  so ;  at  least  not  place  enough,  to  keep  men 
to  their  promises ;  because  in  the  condition  of  mere  nature, 
the  inecjuality  of  power  is  not  discerned,  but  by  the  event 
of  battle.    So  that  before  the  time  of  civil  society,  or  in  the 
interruption  thereof  by  war,  there  is  nothing  can  strength- 
en a  covenant  of  peace  agreed  on,  against  the  temptations 
of  avarice,  ambition,  lust,  or  other  strong  desire,  but 
the  fear  of  that  invisible  power,  which  they  every  one  wor- 
ship as  God ;  and  fear  as  a  revenger  of  their  perfidy.    All 
therefore  that  can  be  done  between  two  men  not  subject 
to  civil  power,  is  to  put  one  another  to  swear  by  the  God 
he  feareth :  which  swearing,  or  oath, Js  a  form  of  speech, 
added  to  a  promise;  hy  which  he  that  promiseth,  signi/ieth, 
that  unless  he  perform,  he  renounceth  the  mercy  of  his 
God,  or  calleth  to  him  for  vengeance  on  himself.  Such  was 
the  heathen  form,  Let  Jupiter  kill  me  else,  as  I  kill  this 
beast.    So  is  our  form,  /  shall  do  thus,  and  tl^u,^  sn  hplp 
jmGvd,    And  this,  with  the  rites  and  ceremonies,  which 
every  one  useth  in  his  own  religion,  that  the  fear  of  break- 
ing faith  might  be  the  greater. 

By  this  it  appears,  that  an  oath  taken  according  to  any 
other  form,  or  rite,  than  his,  that  sweareth,  is  in  vain; 
and  no  oath :  and  that  there  is  no  swearing  by  any  thing 
which  the  swearer  thinks  not  God.  For  though  men  have 
sometimes  used  to  swear  by  their  kings,  for  fear,  or  flat- 


t.rv  vet  they  would  have  it  thereby  understood,  they  at- 

K  :t^d  to  them  divine  honour.    And  that  swearmg  un. 

t^Z  T^l  is  but  prophaning  of  his  name :  and 

:S  W  «h„  thing,  as  ""f '"  ^■";'^"^"7» 

is  not  swearing,  but  an  impious  custom,  gotten    y 

much  vehemence  of  talking^  ^  ^^  ^^^ 

PAKALLEL   CHAPTER   FROM 

PHILOSOPHICAL  RUDIMENTS  CONCERNING 

GOVERNMENT. 
CHAPTER  n. 

OP  THE  LAW  OP  NATURE  CONCERKING  CONTRACTS 

,.    A.,  authors  agree  not  conc™^^^^^^^ 

-T/tS\et^n"Xf  rtt;s.%he  Uod  there- 
use  of  this  term  m  definitions  and  exclusion  of 

fore  wherein  we  begin  from  denn  ^^ 

all  equivocation,  is  only  proper  o  ^he-  wh^  ^^„  3,^ 
place  for  contrary  disputes^ F  the  res^,  ^^  J^^^^^  ^^ 
that  somewhat  IS  done  ag  ^^^^  ^^^  ^^^_ 

^'T  ''  "rnfof  Sthe  most  wise  and  learned  nations: 
eral  agreement  of  all  tne  ^^^  ^,g. 

but  this  declares  not  who  sh^H  be  the  J^  J^  ^^^^^^  ^^^^ 

it  was  done  against  the  general  co  ^     ^j^^^ 

„„oh  *«»»»';»;»„•;»:  Sm™";;?  MS,  .0  of- 

it  were  impossible  for  any  du  ^^^.^^  ^j 

fend  against  such  a  law  for  sure,  und  ^.^^ 

mankind,  they  comprehend  all  men  actua  y 


366 


LEVIATHAN 


NATURAL  LAWS 


267 


reason.  These  therefore  either  do  naught  against  it, 
or  if  they  do  aught,  it  is  without  their  own  consent,  and 
therefore  ought  to  be  excused.  But  to  receive  the  laws 
of  nature  from  the  consents  of  them  who  oftener  break 
than  observe  them,  is  in  truth  unreasonable.  Besides, 
men  condemn  the  same  things  in  others,  which  they  ap- 
prove in  themselves ;  on  the  other  side,  they  publicly  com- 
mend what  they  privately  condemn;  and  they  deliver 
their  opinions  more  by  hearsay,  than  any  speculation  of 
their  own ;  and  they  accord  more  through  hatred  of  some 
object,  through  fear,  hope,  love,  or  some  other  pertur- 
bation of  mind,  than  true  reason.  And  therefore  it 
comes  to  pass,  that  whole  bodies  of  people  often  do  those 
things  with  the  greatest  imanimity  and  earnestness, 
which  those  writers  most  willingly  acknowledge  to  be 
against  the  law  of  nature.  But  since  all  do  grant,  that  is 
done  by  right,  which  is  not  done  against  reason,  we 
ought  to  judge  those  actions  only  wrong,  which  are  re- 
pugnant to  right  reason,  that  is,  which  contradict  some 
certain  truth  collected  by  right  reasoning  from  true  prin- 
ciples. But  that  which  is  done  wrong,  we  say  it  is  done 
against  some  law.  Therefore  true  reason  is  a  certain  law; 
which,  since  it  is  no  less  a  part  of  human  nature,  than 
any  other  faculty  or  affection  of  the  mind,  is  also  termed 
natural.  Therefore  the  law  of  nature^hsit  I  may  define 
it,  is  the  dictate  of  right  reason,*  conversant  about  those 


*  Right  reason.]  By  right  reason  in  the  natural  state  of  men, 
I  understand  not,  as  many  do,  an  infallible  faculty,  but  the  act 
of  reasoning,  that  is,  the  peculiar  and  true  ratiocination  of  every 
man  concerning  those  actions  of  his,  which  may  either  redound 
to  the  damage  or  benefit  of  his  neighbbours.  I  call  it  peculiar, 
because  although  in  a  civil  government  the  reason  of  the  supreme, 
that  is,  the  civil  law,  is  to  be  received  by  each  single  subject  for 
the  right;  yet  being  without  this  civil  government,  in  which 
state  no  man  can  know  right  reason  from  false,  but  by  comparing 
it  with  his  own,  every  man's  own  reason  is  to  be  accounted,  not 


.t,;.ff.  which  are  either_to  b.  done  or  ^'"ed  -^^ 
^,,.  pr...rvation-^ife  and  memberr^TSiSch  as 

'"  " 'St  the  first  and  fundamental  law  of  nature j  that  I        ^ 
peace  is  to  be  sought  after,  u-here  it  may  befoun^  ^ni         Y^ 
where  not.  there  to  provide  ourselves  for  helps  of  war. 
For  we  showed  in  the  last  article  of  the  foregoing  chap- 
S    hat  thTprecept  is  the  dictate  of  right  reason-  bu 
hat  the  dictates  of  right  reason,  are  -tural  law  .  *at 
hath  been  newly  proved  above.     But  this  is  the  first 
because  the  rest  are  derived  from  this,  and  they  direct 
the  ways  either  to  peace  or  self-defence. 

,      But  one  of  the  natural  laws  derived  from  this 
fundamental  one  is  this :  that  the  right  of  all  men  to  ad    y 
Sr  S.  -'  ^0  be  retailed;  but  tUt  s<me  c^r^a.n\ 
riThts  ouzht  to  be  transferred  or  relnqutshed.     For  if 
vfry  one  should  retain  his  right  to  all  things,  it  mus^ 
necessarily  follow,  that  some  by  right  might  invade,  and 
X       bv   the    same   right,   might   defend   themselves 
•    .  ^i,^     For  everv  man  by  natural  necessity  en- 
dfa^our    tTdef!:d  hiriody,  a/d  the  things  which  he 
iuS  necessary  towards  the  protection  of  his  body 
The^etore  war  Jould  follow.    He  therefore  acts  against 
Te  reason  of  peace,  that  is,  against  the  law  of  nature 
whosoever  he  L  that  doth  not  part  with  his  nght  to  all 
things. 

o„,y  the  rule  of  his  o- -^°-  -'ll^'f^^^.l^^"^ 
but  also  for  the  measure  of  another  man  s  from  true 

as  do  concern  h.m.  I  <=»» 't  tr"*-  ™^  ^'  ^^ole  breach  of  the 
principles  rightly  framed,  becau^«  ffA^'^ning,  or  rather  folly  of 
laws  of  nature  consists  m  the  »f,l?^/^^^°„f' necessarily  to  per- 

tm  ra^h^rs-t^^oXt^^^n  -^^^^^^^^  - 
l^^l^ri^n^LTe"^^^^^^^^  «th,  sixth,  and 

Teventh  articles  of  the  first  chapter. 


.2-0 


268 


LEVIATHAN 


4.  But  he  is  said  to  part  with  his  right,  who  either  ab- 
solutely renounceth  it,  or  conveys  it  to  another.    He  ab- 
solutely renounceth  it,  who  by  some  sufficient  sign  or 
meet  tokens  declares,  that  he  is  willing  that  it  shall  never 
be  lawful  for  him  to  do  that  again,  which  before  by  right 
he  might  have  done.    But  he  conveys  it  to  another,  who 
by  some  sufficient  sign  or  meet  tokens  declares  to  that 
other,  that  he  is  willing  it  should  be  unlawful  for  him 
to  resist  him,  in  going  about  to  do  somewhat  in  the  per- 
formance whereof  he  might  before  with  right  have  re- 
sisted him.     But  that  the  conveyance  of  right  consists 
merely  in  not  resisting,  is  understood  by  this,  that  before 
it  was  conveved,  he  to  whom  he  conveyed  it,  had  even 
then  also  a  right  to  all ;  whence  he  could  not  give  any 
new  right;  but  the   resisting  right  he  had  before  he 
gave  it,  by  reason  whereof  the  other  could  not  freely  en- 
joy  his  rights,  is  utterly  abolished.    Whosoever  therefore 
acquires  some  right  in  the  natural  state  of  men,  he  only 
procures  himself  security  and  freedom  from  just  mo- 
lestation in  the  enjoyment  of  his  primitive  right.    As  for 
example,  if  any  man  shall  sell  or  give  away  a  farm,  he 
utterly  deprives  himself  only  from  all  right  to  this  farm-; 
but  he  does  not  so  others  also. 

5.  But  in  the  conveyance  of  right,  the  will  is  requisite 
not  only  of  him  that  conveys,  but  of  him  also  that  accepts 
it.  If  either  be  wanting,  the  right  remains.  For  if  I 
would  have  given  what  was  mine  to  one  who  refused  to 
accept  of  it,  I  have  not  therefore  either  simply  renounced 
my  right,  or  conveyed  it  to  any  man.  For  the  cause 
which  moved  me  to  part  with  it  to  this  man,  was  in  him 

only,  not  in  others  too. 

6.  But  if  there  be  no  other  token  extant  of  our  will 
either  to  quit  or  convey  our  right,  but  only  words ;  those 
words  must  either  relate  to  the  present  or  time  past ;  for 


NATURAL  LAWS 


269 


■t  tln^v  be  of  the  future  only,  they  convey  nothing.    For 

Lorrow  too.  unless  in  the  -^enm  h^ac^aUy  hesto^j 
if  for  what  is  mine,  remains  mme  till  I  have  P^^^a 
•  ■  But  if  I  shall  speak  of  the  time  present,  suppose  thus, 
fd^five  0  haveivuen  you  this  to  be  received  to-mor- 
.t  f  h  e  word!  is  signified  that  I  have  alreadyj-n 
Tand  that  his  right  to  receive  it  to-morrow  is  conveyed 

"  r^^eLXlets^hough  words  alone  are  not  suffi^ 
cienuokens  to  declare  the  will ;  if  yet  to  -o;^;  -^^;^; 
the  future  there  shall  some  other  signs  be  added  they  n«ty 

Tp  ear"tr hfr  sp'/aks  of  the^-- j^^tfeS 

o  Shttpel  not  on  words,  but.  as  hath  been  instanced 
Z  he  four^  article,  on  the  declaration  of  ^^e J  « 

^  A  W  the  reason  given  in  the  foregoing  article. 
Umtt  ted"  he'efore  be.  that  the  obligation  arise  from 
rXtoke^s  of  the  will.  But.  because  whatsoever 
is  voluntarily  done,  is  done  for  some  good  to  him  that 
wiHs  it  •  there  can  no  other  token  be  assigned  of  the 
:  11  to  give  t.  except  some  benefit  either  already  received 
Tr  to  be  acquired.    But  it  is  supposed  that  no  such  benefit 


270 


LEVIATHAN 


is  acquired,  nor  any  compact  in  being ;  for  if  so,  it  would 
cease  to  be  a  free  gift.  It  remains  therefore,  that  a 
mutual  good  turn  without  agreement  be  expected.  But 
no  sign  can  be  given,  that  he,  who  used  future  words 
toward  him  who  was  in  no  sort  engaged  to  return  a  ben- 
efit, should  desire  to  have  his  words  so  understood  as 
to  oblige  himself  thereby.  Nor  is  it  suitable  to  reason, 
that  those  who  are  easily  inclined  to  do  well  to  others, 
should  be  obliged  by  every  promise,  testifying  their  pres- 
ent good  affection.  And  for  this  cause,  a  promiser  in 
this  kind  must  be  understood  to  have  time  to  deliberate, 
Sind  power  to  change  that  affection,  as  well  as  he  to  whom 
he  made  that  promise,  may  alter  his  desert.  But  he  that 
deliberates,  is  so  far  forth  free,  nor  can  be  said  to  have 
already  given.  But  if  he  promise  often,  and  yet  give 
seldom,  he  oug:ht  to  be  condemned  of  levity,  and  be 
called  not  a  donor,  but  doson. 

9.  But  the  act  of  two,  or  more,  mutually  conveying 
their  rights,  is  called  a  contract.  But  in  every  contract, 
either  both  parties  instantly  perform  what  they  contract 
for,  insomuch  as  there  is  no  trust  had  from  either  to 
other ;  or  the  one  performs,  the  other  is  trusted ;  or  neith- 
er perform.  Where  both  parties  perform  presently,  there 
the  contract  is  ended  as  soon  as  it  is  performed.  But 
where  there  is  credit  given,  either  to  one  or  both,  there 
the  party  trusted  promiseth  after-performance;  and  this 
kind  of  promise  is  called  a  covenant. 

10.  But  the  covenant  made  by  the  party  trusted  with 
him  who  hath  already  performed,  although  the  promise 
be  made  by  words  pointing  at  the  future,  doth  no  less 
transfer  the  right  of  future  time,  than  if  it  had  been  made 
by  words  signifying  the  present  or  time  past.  For  the  oth- 
er's performance  is  a  most  manifest  sign  that  he  so  un- 
derstood the  speech  of  him  whom  he  trusted,  as  that  he 


NATURAL  LAWS 


271 


would  certainly  make  performance  also  at  the  appointed 
dme    and  by  this  sign  the  party  trusted  knew  hjmse  f 
r^    hus  understood;  which  because  he  hmdered  not 
was  an  evident  token  of  his  will  to  perform.    The  prom 
Z  therefore  which  are  made  for  some  benefit  receded 
which  are  also  covenants,  are  tokens  of  the  will,  that  .s 
as  in  the  foregoing  section  hath  been  declared,  of  the 
ast  acf^f  deliirJing,  whereby  the  liberty  of  no^er- 
formance  is  abolished,  and  by  consequence  are  ob  iga 
torT    For  where  liberty  ceaseth,  there  beginneth  obhga- 

''*'"ll.  But  the  covenants  which  are  made  in  contract  of 
mutual  trust,  neither  party  performing  out  of  hand,  .f 
Zre  ar  se*  ^  just  suspicion  in  either  of  them,  are  m  the 
tate  o    natur    invalid'     For  he  that  first  performs  by 
reason  of  the  wicked  disposition  of  the  greaj^est  par    o 
men  studying  their  own  advantage  eUhe'",  b/.  "^^^j^ 
wrong  exposeth  himself  to  the  perverse  will  o  him  with 
whom'he  hath  contracted.    For  it  suits  not  w'th  -ea  on 
Thatly  man  should  perform  first,  if  it  be  not  hkely^hjt 
he  other  will  make     good  his  promise  after ,  which, 
whether  it  be  probable  or  not,  he  that  doubts  it  must  be 
Tudge  of  as  hath  been  showed  in  the  foregoing  chapter 
n  th   nimh  article.    Thus,  I  say,  things  stand  in  the  s^te 
of  nature,    m  in  a  civil  state,  wbgL^rL^^S 


of  nature,     ^y;  1"  -t  ^iv  ^^^^-<  ••■  . 

which  can  compeltoh_parties   helHp^ha^^cogrged 

> -..w^  tir.f.  rmlTfirst  perfor^^becaussJHgls^ 
[^SnirrStni?^  non-performance,  ceaseth. 

*Arise.]     For.  except  there  ^PPe"  some  new  cause  of ^  fe^r, 

dl^^^^^^  r.^mcrIo^:SSe  the  b^reach  of  it. 
being  made. 


272 


LEVIATHAN 


1 


12.  But  from  this  reason,  that  in  all  free  gifts  and 
compacts  there  is  an  acceptance  of  the  conveyance  of 
right  required :  it  follows  that  no  man  can  compact  with 
him  who  doth  not  declare  his  acceptance.  And  therefore 
we  cannot  compact  with  beasts,  neither  can  we  give  or  take 
from  them  any  manner  of  right,  by  reason  of  their  want 
of  speech  and  understanding.  Neither  can  any  man  cov- 
enant with  God,  or  be  obliged  to  him  by  vow ;  except  so 
far  forth  as  it  appears  to  him  by  Holy  Scriptures,  that  he 
hath  substituted  certain  men  who  have  authority  to  accept 
of  such-like  vows  and  covenants,  as  being  in  God's  stead. 

13.  Those  therefore  do  vow  in  vain,  who  are  in  the 
state  of  nature,  where  they  are  not  tied  by  any  civil  law, 
except,  by  most  certain  revelation,  the  will  of  God  to 
accept  their  vow  or  pact,  be  made  known  to  them.  For 
if  what  they  vow  be  contrary  to  the  law  of  nature,  they 
are  not  tied  by  their  vow ;  for  no  man  is  tied  to  perform 
an  unlawful  act.  But  if  what  is  vowed,  be  commanded  by 
some  law  of  nature,  it  is  not  their  vow,  but  the  law 
itself  which  ties  them.  But  if  he  were  free,  before  his 
vow,  either  to  do  it  or  not  do  it,  his  liberty  remains; 
because  that  the  openly  declared  will  of  the  obligor  is 
requisite  to  make  an  obligation  by  vow;  which,  in  the 
case  propounded,  is  supposed  not  to  be.  Now  I  call  him 
the^obligor,  to  whom  any  one  is  tied;  and  the  obliged^ 
him  who  is  tied. 

14.  Covenants  are  made  of  such  things  only  as  fall  un- 
der our  deliberation.  For  it  can  be  no  covenant  without 
the  will  of  the  contractor.  But  the  will  is  the  last  act  of 
him  who  deliberates ;  wherefore  they  only  concern  things 
possible  and  to  come.  No  man,  therefore,  by  his  compact 
obligeth  himself  to  an  impossibility.  But  yet,  though  we 
often  covenant  to  do  such  things  as  then  seem  possible 
when  we  promised  them,  which  yet  afterward  appear  to 


NATURAL  LAWS 


?73 


,e  impossible,  are  we  not  therefore^-^  from  ^l^oblig- 

a  future,  m  certamty  receives  a  p  ^^^ 

dition  that  he  "Wm  another  fo^    „piy  before  it  for  its 

performs  the  Pjes-^^/":^^;*^^^^^^^  with  the  thing 

obiect  V^^^J-^t^Sf  not  simply,  but  with  con- 
promised ;  but  the  tnmg  ^j^^ 

dition  if  it  could  be  done.  .^^  'J  ™^      .j^^  he  must 

even  this  should  ^X\rS^lnJs'tl..reior..  oblige 

I  perform  as  much  as  he  can.   ^  covenanted  for. 

U"d  .!»•  t, fr^Cl  --"-  .0.  by  W*f  » 

to  whom  the  gift  «  made.  compacts  extorted 

16.  It  is  a  usual  q"«=f  °":  ™"„ot     For  example, 
from  us  through  fear,  do  obhge  or  not.       ^  ^^^^^^  ^ 

if.  to  redeem  -J  "^^f^/dly^  that  I  will  do  no 
promise  to  pay  hmi  ^°?-"?'''  /'bring  him  to  justice: 
act  whereby  to    apprehend    and    D     g  ^ 

whether  I  am  tied  to  ^e^^rb,  Tudged  to  be  of  no 
such  a  promise  must  sometm  j  .^    ^^^^^. 

effect,  yet  it  is  not  to  be  -— ^  ^        ^^^ 
eth  from  fear    For  then  t  wo  ^^^  ^^  ^^^^  ^^, 

ises  which  reduced  me^.^^ a  <:  ^^^^.  ^^^^ 

I  were  made,  might  likewise  oe  u  ^^^ 

,;gcdsJtom  frar  ftf  mutua  ^y^T  l^j  he  should 
S^msejnojhejon^^  ' 


174 


LEVIATHAN 


play  the  fool  finely,  who  should  trust  his  captive  cov- 
enanting with  the  price  of  his  redemption.  It  holds  uni- 
versally true,  that  promises  do  oblige,  when  there  is  some 
benefit  received,  and  when  the  promise,  and  the  thing 
promised,  be  lawful.  But  it  is  lawful,  for  the  redemption 
of  my  life,  both  to  promise  and  to  give  what  I  will  of 
mine  own  to  any  man,  even  to  a  thief.  We  are  obliged, 
therefore,  by  promises  proceeding  from  fear,  except  the 
civil  law  forbid  them;  by  virtue  whereof,  that  which  is 
promised  becomes  unlawful. 

17.  Whosoever  shall  contract  with  one  to  do  or  omit 
somewhat,  and  shall  after  covenant  the  contrary  with  an- 
other, he  maketh  not  the  former,  but  the  latter  contract 
unlawful.  For  he  hath  no  longer  right  to  do  or  to  omit 
aught,  who  by  former  contracts  hath  conveyed  it  to  an- 
other. Wherefore  he  can  convey  no  right  by  latter  con- 
tracts, and  what  is  promised  is  promised  without  right. 
He  is  therefore  tied  only  to  his  first  contract,  to  break 
which  is  unlawful. 

18.  No  man  is  obliged  by  any  contracts  whatsoever  not 
to  resist  him  who  shall  oiTer  to  kill,  wound,  or  any  other 
way  hurt  his  body.  For  there  is  in  every  man  a  certain 
high  degree  of  fear,  through  which  he  apprehends  that 
evil  which  is  done  to  him  to  be  the  greatest;  and  there- 
fore by  natural  necessity  he  shuns  it  all  he  can,  and  it  is 
supposed  he  can  do  no  otherwise.  When  a  man  is  ar- 
rived to  this  degree  of  fear,  we  cannot  expect  but  he  will 
provide  for  himself  either  by  flight  or  fight.  Since  there- 
fore no  man  is  tied  to  impossibilities,  they  who  are' 
threatened  either  with  death,  (which  is  the  greatest  evil 
to  nature),  or  wounds,  or  some  other  bodily 
hurts,  and  are  not  stout  enough  to  bear  them, 
are  not  obliged  to  endure  them.  Furthermore,  he 
that     is     tied     by     contract     is     trusted;     for     faith 


NATURAL  LAWS 


275 


,  •  fhe  bond  of  contracts ;  but  they  who  are 
S2li^~^  t^^  ?Q^;  either  capital  or  more  gentle,  arc 
brought  to  punishment,  f^^'^^  ^^^,  certain  sign 

fettered  or  strongly  g^^^^^^^  ^^^^  ^,,.,esist- 

that  they  seemed  not  ~/^^^^  ^^  j  promise  thus: 

ance  by  their  contracts.    It  is  one  W'  ^  P        ^^^^^^r 
H  I  do  it  not  at  the  f  JP^^^^^  offer  to 

thing,  if  thus:  If  I  do  !Y^'i^'^^^^  J  „,ed  be,  contract 
,iU  me,  I  will  not  t.s.t     A^  --^^^j^^^     ^,,3  second 

the  first  way,  ^^.^^^^^^^^^^  For  in  the  mere 

way,  none;  neither  is  it  e^er  n  .^^^^^ 

state  of  nature,  if  you  have  a  mmd  t^^^^^^^^    ^^^  ^^^,  ,,^st 

a^ords  you  ^^'^^'^\; '^^^^^^  kill  him. 

him,  if  for  a  breach  of  trust  >ou  ^  ^^^  ^^^^^ 

But  in  a  civil  state,  ^^^f^^^^;^;^^^^^^^     the  supreme, 
and  of  all  corporal  punishmen    is  with  t  v 

,„«  same  *•  °' ^fSTlp^i:^— <  cit^c. 

'''''.  '^'^ZJ^X^o  %^  to  his  punishment;  but 
with  any  man  P^^^^^^^  "?  ;  ^^^^^^  others  from  him. 
only  this,  that  -^^^^^^l^^^^^^  two  realms,  there 
Tf  in  the  state  of  ^f  ^^^^^^^^^^^  of  killing  if  it 

should  a  contract  be  made  on  ^^^^  con- 

were  not  performed,  we  ^^^^^  P^^^^^^^^^^^^      wherefore 

,„„„,„„  '<»;jj^f4- *;S«.  *'  Hgh.  o.  war 

on  that  day,  if  ^^^^f^^^  5"  f        -^  ^hich  all  things  are 
returns,  that  is  a  hostile  ^^f^'^J"  lastly,  by  the 

lawful,  and  ^^^^^^ ^^^  of  tJo  evils  to 
contract  of  not  resisting,  we  r.„ter    For  certain 

make  choice  of  that  whu:h  seem  the  ^eate  •  .^  .^ 

death  is  a  greater  evil  ^^^^f^^'  |;\th  a  compact. 
;Se  r  LrbVtJrt  ^mpLsibilities;  which 
^.y  to  the  very  J^^^^^^;^,,.  ^...o..- 


276 


LEVIATHAN 


is  like  to  procure  himself  a  bitter  life.  Wherefore  neither 
is  a  father  obliged  to  bear  witness  against  his  &on,  nor 
a  husband  against  his  wife,  nor  a  son  against  his  father, 
nor  any  man  against  any  one  by  whose  means  he  hath  his 
subsistence;  for  in  vain  is  that  testimony  which  is  pre- 
sumed to  be  corrupted  from  nature.  But  although  no 
man  be  tied  to  accuse  himself  by  any  compact,  yet  in  a 
public  trial  he  may  by  torture  be  forced  to  make  answer. 
But  such  answers  are  no  testimony  of  the  fact,  but  helps 
for  the  searching  out  of  truth ;  so  that  whether  the  party 
tortured  his  answer  to  be  true  or  false,  or  whether  he 
answer  not  at  all,  whatsoever  he  doth,  h»  doth  it  by 
right. 

120.  Swearing  is  a  speech  joined  to  a  promise,  whereby 
the  promisor  declares  his  renouncing  of  God's  mercy, 
unless  he  perform  his  word.  Which  definition  is  con- 
tained in  the  words  themselves,  which  have  in 
them  the  very  essence  of  an  oath,  to  wit,  so 
God  help  me,  or  other  equivalent,  as  with  the 
Romans,  do  thou  Jupiter  so  destroy  the  deceiver^ 
as  I  slay  this  same  beast.  Neither  is  this  any  let, 
but  that  an  oath  may  as  well  sometimes  be  affirmatory  as 
promissory;  for  he  that  confirms  his  affirmation  with  an 
oath,  promiseth  that  he  speaks  truth.  But  though  in  some 
places  it  was  the  fashion  for  subjects  to  swear  by  their 
kings,  that  custom  took  its  original  hence,  that  those  kings 
took  upon  them  divine  honour.  For  oaths  were  therefore 
introduced,  that  by  religion  and  consideration  of  the 
divine  power,  men  might  have  a  greater  dread  of  break- 
ing their  faiths,  than  that  wherewith  they  fear  men, 
from  whose  eyes  their  actions  may  lie  hid. 

21.  Whence  it  follows  that  an  oath  must  be  conceived 
in  that  form,  which  he  useth  who  takes  it;  for  in  vain 
is  any  man  brought  to  swear  by  a  God  whom  he  believes 


NATURAL  LAWS 


277 


no.  and  ^^^r.^^r^^-J^^^t  ^<S, 

light  of  nature  >t  ";->    ''^  ™  ,.  ^    h^  in  any  other 
yet  no  man  th-ks  he    s  to    >  ^^^^  .^  ^^^,^^,^  i„ 

fashion,  or  by  any  other  name,  ^^^^^ 

the  precepts  of  his  own  proper,  that  ,s  (as 

imagines)  the  true  rehgion  understand 

^^    v^r  ihe  definition  01  an  oatn,  wc  ma^ 
22.  by  tne.  aemui  ^^  ^^^^^i 

tl-t  a  bare  contr^<=  ;^l>f  J^  "^^^^^^^^^   ^,.^,  ,,„,, 
we  are  sworn.    For  ^^  •      „„„ichment  which  it  could 
,,e  oath  relates  1^^^'^^^'^^^  "^  ^"  ^^^^ 
"1  'TJl    b^    it  i  -t  be  unlawful,  if  the  contract 
unlawful ,  butit  CO  ^^^^^  j,,  ^hat  renounceth 

were  not  o^'^^^-  J     ^  i,i„,self  not  to  any  pun.sh- 
the  mercy  of  God,  W^  deprecate  the  pumsh- 

ment;  because  it  is  ever  lawful  to      v  ^^^^^ 

ment.  howsoever  P-f  ;^^;  ^^^t  tSore  of  an  oath 
if  it  be  granted     The  onjy  effect  .^^^.^^^  ^^ 

is  this;  to  cause  "e"'  ^^  f^     .  fear  of  punishment 

break  all  manner  of  '^'!^'^'°''^JZrds  Ld  actions. 

to  make  the  more  ^--^^^^^^X  Zl^cl.  of  contract. 
23.  To  exact  an  o^th  where  the  ^^^^^  ^^ 

if  any  be  made    cannot  bu^^  7;^;,,  ,,  punish,  is 

party  compacted  ^'^^^^  J^f^'^^^ssary  unto  self-defense, 
to  do  somewhat  more  *an  '«J<=«^^ J  ^^  ^^^efit  itself, 
and  shews  a  mind  de«»'°"^  "^^°  ^"^  out  of  the  very 
as  to  P-i-<i-  -tTaken  Tn -dTr ';  the  provocation 

form  of  ^*^""f '    y^"    ,  of  him  that  is  omnipotent, 
of  God's  anger,  that  IS  to  ^ay,  ^^^^^  because 

r ":l t laTt  *e  r  o^  strength  they  can  escape 
they  thmk  tha    by  the  ^^^^  .^  omniscient 

bS>»s.  <h.y  hop.  that  no  m^  shall  s«  thm.. 


LAWS  OF  NATURE 


279 


CHAPTER  XV. 


OF  OTHER  LAWS  OF  NATURE. 


3  /^cA-* 


I 


From  that  law  of  nature,  by  which  we  are  obliged  to  trans- 
fer to  another,  such  rights,  as  being  retained,  hinder  the 
peace  of  mankind,  there  followeth  a  third ;  which  is  this, 
that  men  perform  their  covenants  made:  without  which, 
covenants  are  in  vain,  and  but  empty  words ;  and  the  right 
of  all  men  to  all  things  remaining,  we  are  still  in  the  con- 
dition of  war. 

And  in  this  law  of  nature,  consisteth  the  fountain  and 
original  of  justice.  For  where  no  covenant  hath  pre- 
ceded, there  hath  no  right  been  transferred,  and  every  man 
has  right  to  every  thing ;  and  consequently,  no  action  can 
be  unjust.  But  when  a  covenant  is  made,  then  to  break 
it  is  unjust:  and  the  definition  of  injustice,  is  no  other 
than  the  not  i>erformance  of  covenant.  And  whatsoever  is 
not  unjust,  is  just. 

But  because  covenants  of  mutual  trust,  where  there 
is  a  fear  of  not  performance  on  either  part,  as  hath  been 
said  in  the  former  chapter,  are  invalid ;  though  the  original 
of  justice  be  the  making  of  covenants ;  yet  injustice  act- 
ually there  can  be  none,  till  the  cause  of  such  fear  be  taken 
away;  which  while  men  are  in  the  natural  condition  of 
war,  cannot  be  done.  Therefore  before  the  names  of 
just,  and  unjust  can  have  place,  there  must  be  some  co- 
ercive power,  to  compel  men  equally  to  the  performance  of 
their  covenants,  by  the  terror  of  some  punishment,  greater 
than  the  benefit  they  expect  by  the  breach  of  their  cov- 
enant ;  and  to  make  good  that  propriety,  which  by  mutual 
contract  men  acquire,  in  recompense  of  the  universal  right 
they  abandon:  and  such  power  there  is  none  before  the 


erection  of  a  commonwealth.  And  this  is  ^^^^^^'^l 
ered  out  of  the  ordinary  ^^  ^^  ^,  Zll  of 
Schools:  for  they  say  that  i«^''"  «  '"/^^^^  ^^ere  there 
giving  to  ez'cry  man  h,s  "«'«•  ^^"^  ^^o  ^ustice;  and 
is  no  own,  that  is  no  P^OP"^*^' *f "  *' "°  ^^ere  th^re  is 
where  is  no  coersive  power  erected,  that  *«'  ^J!'      ^ 

To  commonwealth,  there  is  no  P-P^J^    f  ^^^ 

•  uf  tf^  nil  things  •  therefore  where  there  is_no_£gmtiaa* 

nght  to  all  thmgs.  tn  .     "■     go  that^hTnature  of 

w£5WUi!S£^;;f^^;J^  covenants :  but  the 

ustice,  consisteth  m  keep"'^  °;  .^  ^y^^  constitution 

validity  of  covenants  begins  not  but  wUh  tn 
of  a  civil  power,  sufficient  to  compel  men  to  keep  tn 
and  then  it  is  also  that  F0P;i^tyj;^S^^^^^^  ^^  „,  ,,,^  thing 

allegmg,  that  every  mau  reason, 

being  committed  to  h.s  o^^  ^^^^^^^^..^  ,,„,,eed 
why  every  man  might  not  qo 

commonwealth,  and  P"' '"  ^"""furity  for  any  of  them  that  so 
of  coercion,  are  no  reasonable  secur  y  ^^^  ^j,,,  ,„  ^^ 

covenant,  nor  are  to  b'  {j^l'-l  ^^f  ^X  the  wills  of  most  men 
estate  of  nature  ?n<i JiostiUty.    ror  fj,ere  is  no  power  of  coer- 

are  governed  only  by  ^ ear,  ana  wner  n,  foUow  their  pas- 

don,  there  is  no  fear,  the  wills  of  m°^t  «^"  ^^  ^^e  breaking 
sons  of  covetousness  lust  an8%>  f"^j^,;"  who  otherwise  would 
of  those  covenants  ^^ereby  'h^jest  vf"^  ,^^_  i,„t  ^'^"'^^'Z 
keep  them  are  set  a„Vin«don*»»**consisteth  in  the  transferring 
wives  This  power  of  coercion  ^;^.  ^  1^;^  ^  whom  he  hath 
of  every  man^s  right  of  ':«;f/,^f<;%"?oUoweth  therefore,  that 
transferred  the  power  of  coercion     it  ^^  ^^5,34 

no  man  in  any  <:o"}"'0"*"''*'i,ave  tranlfe^red  this  power  coer- 
him,  or  them,  to  whom  they  have  tra  ^^^.^^   supposmg 

cive  or  (as  men  use  to  call  it)  the^sw  ^^^  ^^^^  ^^^^ 

the  not-resistance  possible.    Also  aoove  v  s-* 


28o 


LEVIATHAN 


there  be  covenants ;  and  that  they  are  sometimes  broken, 
sometimes  kept;  and  that  such  breach  of  them  may 
be  called  injustice,  and  the  observance  of  them  jus- 
tice: but  he  questioneth,  whether  injustice,  taking 
away  the  fear  of  God,  for  the  same  fool  hath 
said  in  his  heart  there  is  no  God,  may  not  sometimes 
stand  with  that  reason,  which  dictateth  to  every  man  his 
own  good;  and  particularly  then,  when  it  conduceth  to 
such  a  benefit,  as  shall  put  a  man  in  a  condition,  to  neglect 
not  only  the  dispraise,  and  revilings,  but  also  the  power 
of  other  men.  The  kingdom  of  God  is  gotten  by  violence : 
but  what  if  it  could  be  gotten  by  unjust  violence?  were 
it  against  reason  so  to  get  it,  when  it  is  impossible  to  re- 
ceive hurt  by  it?  and  if  it  be  not  against  reason,  it  is  not 
against  justice;  or  else  justice  is  not  to  be  approved  for 
good.  From  such  reasoning  as  this,  successful  wicked- 
ness hath  obtained  the  name  of  virtue :  and  some  that  in 
all  other  things  have  disallowed  the  violation  of  faith; 
yet  have  allowed  it,  when  it  is  for  the  getting  of  a  king- 
dom. And  the  heathen  that  believed,  that  Saturn  was  de- 
posed by  his  son  Jupiter,  believed  nevertheless  the  same 
Jupiter  to  be  the  avenger  of  injustice :  somewhat  like  to 
a  piece  of  law  in  Coke's  Commentaries  on  Littleton; 
where  he  says,  if  the  right  heir  of  the  crown  be  attainted 
of  treason;  yet  the  crown  shall  descend  to  him,  and 
CO  instante  the  attainder  be  void :  from  which  instances  a 
man  will  be  very  prone  to  infer ;  that  when  the  heir  ap- 
parent of  a  kingdom,  shall  kill  him  that  is  in  possession, 
though  his  father;  you  may  call  it  injustice,  or  by  what 
other  name  you  will ;  yet  it  can  never  be  against  reason, 
seeing  all  the  voluntary  actions  of  men  tend  to  the  bene- 
fit of  themselves ;  and  those  actions  are  most  reasonable, 
that  conduce  most  to  their  ends.  This  specious  reasoning 
is  nevertheless  false. 


LAWS  OF  NATURE 


281 


For  the  question  is  not  of  ^^or^^^l^-^'J^^l 

power  to  make  him  ^^l^^  l^ZTiSt^^t  of  the 
it  be  against  reason,  that  is    agamst  ^^^_ 

other  to  perform,  or  not  And  I  say  it  is  no     g 

«nn     For  the  manifestation  whereof,  we  are  to  co  , 

son.    for  tnc  lua  notwithstand- 

first,  that  when  a  man  doth  a  thing,  wmc  ,  .j^  ^ 

ing  anything  can  be  foreseen,  and  reckoned  o"- ^ende*  to 

mmmM 

ror  of  them  that  receive  him ,  nor  wnen  uc 

retaLd  in  it,  without  seeing  the  danger  of  their  error 

wS  errors  k  man  cannot  reasonably  reckon  uj^n  as  h 

means  of  his  security:  »«V       ,    f  ie  Uve  ii^^s^ty,  it 
nor' reckon  upon;  and  consequently  against  the  reason 


^l 


7M2 


LEVIATHAN 


of  his  preservation ;  and  so,  as  all  men  that  contribute  not 
to  his  destruction,  forbear  him  only  out  of  ignorance  of 
what  is  good  for  themselves. 

As  for  the  instance  of  gaining  the  secure  and  perpet- 
ual  felicitv  of  heaven,  by  any  way ;  it  is  frivolous :  there 
Eemjnnir&ne  wafitnagir^bll^ ;  P"^  ^hat  k  not  breakmg. 
but  keeping  of  covenant. 

And  for  the  other  instance  of  attaining  sovereignty 
by  rebellion ;  it  is  manifest,  that  though  the  event  follow, 
yet  because  it  cannot  reasonably  be  expected,  but  rather 
the  contrary;  and  because  by  gaining  it  so,  others  are 
taught  to  gain  the  same  in  like  manner,  the  attempt  there- 
of is  against  reason.  Justice  therefore,  that  is  to  say, 
keeping  of  covenant,  is  a  rule  of  reason,  by  which  we  are 
forbidden  to  do  any  thing  destructive  to  our  life ;  and  con- 
sequently a  law  of  nature. 

There  be  some  that  proceed  further ;  and  will  not  have 
the  law  of  nature,  to  be  those  rules  which  conduce  to  the 
preservation  of  man's  life  on  earth ;  but  to  the  attaining 
of  an  eternal  felicity  after  death ;  to  which  they  think  the 
breach  of  covenant  may  conduce ;  and  consequently  be  just 
and  reasonable ;  such  are  they  that  think  it  a  work  of  merit 
to  kill,  or  depose,  or  rebel  against,  the  sovereign  power 
constituted  over  them  by  their  own  consent.  But  because 
there  is  no  natural  knowledge  of  man's  estate  after  death ; 
much  less  of  the  reward  that  is  then  to  be  given  to  breach 
of  faith;  but  only  a  belief  grounded  upon  other  men's 
saying,  that  they  know  it  supernaturally,  or  that  they 
know  those,  that  knew  them,  that  knew  others,  that  knew 
it  supernaturally ;  breach  of  faith  cannot  be  called  a  pre- 
cept of  reason,  or  nature. 

Others,  that  allow  for  a  law  of  nature,  the  keeping 
of  faith,  do  nevertheless  make  exception  of  certain  per- 
sons; as  heretics,  and  such  as  use  not  to  perform  their 


LAWS  OF  NATURE 


J83 


covenant  to  others :  and  this  also  is  against  reason.  For 
if  any  fault  of  a  man,  be  sufficient  to  discharge  our  coven- 
ant made ;  the  same  ought  in  reason  to  have  been  sufficient 
to  have  hindered  the  making  of  it. 

The  names  of  just,  and  unjust,  when  they  are  at- 
tributed to  men,  signify  one  thing ;  and  when  they  are  at- 
tributed  to  actions,  another.    When  they  are  attributed  to 
men,  they  signify  conformity,  or  inconformity  of  manners, 
to  reason.    But  when  they  are  attributed  to  actions,  they 
signify  the  conformity,  or  inconformity  to  reason,  not  of 
manners,  or  manner  of  life,  but  of  particular  actions. 
A  just  man  therefore,  is  he  that  taketh  all  the  care  he  can, 
that  his  actions  may  be  all  just:  and  an  unjust  man,  is  he 
that  neglecteth  it.    And  such  men  are  more  often  in  our 
language  styled  by  the  names  of  righteous,  and  unright- 
eous ;  than  just,  and  unjust ;  though  the  meaning  be  the 
same.  Therefore  a  righteous  man,  does  not  lose  that  title, 
by  one,  or  a  few  unjust  actions,  that  proceed  from  sudden 
passion,  or  mistake  of  things,  or  persons:  nor  does  an 
unrighteous  man,  lose  his  character,  for  such  actions,  as 
he  does,  or  forbears  to  do,  for  fear:  because  his  will  is 
not  framed  by  the  justice,  but  by  the  apparent  benefit  of 
what  he  is  to  do.    That  which  gives  to  human  actions  the 
relish  of  justice,  is  a  certain  nobleness  or  gallantness  of 
courage,  rarely  found,  by  which  a  man  scorns  to  be  be- 
holden for  the  contentment  of  his  life,  to  fraud,  or  breach 
of  promise.    This  justice  of  the  manners,  is  that  which  is 
meant,  where  justice  is  called  a  virtue ;  and  injustice  a 

vice. 

But  the  justice  of  actions  denominates  men,  not  jUSt, 
but  guiltless;  and  the  injustice  of  the  same,  which  is  also 
called  injurv,  gives  them  but  the  name  oigmlty^ 

Again,  the  injustice  of  manners,  is  tKTHisposition,  or 
aptitude  to  do  injury ;  and  is  injustice  before  it  proceed  to 


'<.  V 


284 


LEVIATHAy 


LAWS  OF  NATURE 


285 


tct;  and  without  supposing  any  individual  person  injured. 
But  the  injustice  of  an  action,  that  is  to  say  injury,  sup- 
poseth  an  individual  person  injured ;  namely  him,  to  whom 
the  covenant  was  made:  and  therefore  many  times  the 
injury  is  received  by  one  man,  when  the  damage  redound- 
cth  to  another.    As  when  the  master  commandeth  his  serv- 
ant to  give  money  to  a  stranger ;  if  it  be  not  done,  the  in- 
jury is  done  to  the  master,  whom  he  had  before  coven- 
anted to  obev ;  but  the  damage  redoundeth  to  the  stranger, 
to  whom  he  had  no  obligation ;  and  therefore  could  not 
injure  him.    And  so  also  in  commonwealths,  private  men 
may  remit  to  one  another  their  debts ;  but  not  robberies  or 
other  violences,  whereby  they  are  endamaged ;  because  the 
detaining  of  debt,  is  an  injury  to  themselves;  but  robbery 
and  violence,  are  injuries  to  the  person  of  the  common- 

wealth.  [ 

Whatsoever  is  done,  to  a  man,  conformable  to  his  own 
will  signified  to  the  doer,  is  no  injury  to  him.  For  if  he 
that  doeth  it,  hath  not  passed  away  his  original  right  to 
do  what  he  please,  by  some  antecedent  covenant,  there  is 
no  breach  of  covenant;  and  therefore  no  injury  done  him. 
And  if  he  have ;  then  his  will  to  have  it  done  being  signi- 
fied, is  a  release  of  that  covenant :  and  so  again  there  is  no 

injury  done  him. 

Justice  of  actions,  is  by  writers  divided  into  commu- 
tative, and  distributive:  and  the  former  they  say  consist- 
eth  in  proportion  arithmetical;  the  latter  in  proportion 
geometrical.  Commutative  therefore,  they  place  in  the 
equality  of  value  of  the  things  contracted  for ;  and  dis- 
tributive, in  the  distribution  of  equal  benefit,  to  men  of 
equal  merit.  As  if  it  were  injustice  to  sell  dearer  than  we 
buy ;  or  to  give  more  to  a  man  than  he  merits.  The  value 
of  ail  things  contracted  for,  is  measured  by  the  appetite  of 
the  contractors :  and  therefore  the  just  value,  is  that  which 


they  be  contented  to  give.    And  merit,  besides  that  wWch 

pounded,  is  not  right.    To  «P^\P'°P!' ^'.f  "^,2^^! 
Lstice  is  the  justice,  of  a  contractor;  that  is,  a  perform 
Tc    oVcolen  nt,  in  buying,  and  selling;  hirmg  and  le^ 
Sg  to  hire;  lending,  and  borrowing;  exchanging,  barter- 

-A^^  dSur  iSSe  justice  of  an  arbiter; 
\h^fh  to  sav  the  act  of  defining  what  is  just.  Wherein, 
Entrusted  by  them  that  make  him  arbitrator,  if  he 

:reMhtuthimp;::Vdistribu^^^^ 

properly  equity;  which  also  is  a  law  of  nature,  as 

^  tHuX^Sh  on  antecedent  cov^ant;  so  does 

^^^r^ift-aStrfSirjirat:^ 

whch  may  be  conceived  in  this  form,  that  a  man^h^h 
ttl  leneat  from  anoiker  of  --^^^'^XtZeZ 
that  he  which  giveth  it,  have  no  reasonable  ^^^J^J^'^l 
him  of  his  Stood  will.    For  no  man  giveth,  but  with  in 
fention  of  go^d  to  himself ;  because  gift  is  voluntary ;  and 
of  aU  voluntary  acts,  the  object  is  to  every  man  his  own 
Id    oV  which  if  men  see  they  shall  be  f-strated,  Ae- 
lill  be  no  beginning  of  benevolence,  or  t-t;  nor  conse- 
quently of  mutual  help;  nor  of  reconciliation  of  one  man 
to  another ;  and  therefore  they  are  to  remain  still  m  the 
cond^ion  of  war;  which  is  contrary  to  the  fi/stan<l  ^^  J^ 
mental  law  of  nature,  which  commandeth  men  to  seek 


f 


¥^> 


286 


LEVIATHAN 


^ 


peace.  The  breach  of  this  law,  is  called  ingratitude;  and 
hath  the  same  relation  to  grace,  that  injustice  hath  to  ob- 
ligation by  covenant. 

A  fifth  law  of  nature,  is  complaisance  ;  that  is  to  say^ 
that  ever\  man  strive  to  accommodate  himself  to  the  rest^ 
For  the  understanding  whereof,  we  may  consider,  that 
there  is  in  men's  aptness  to  society,  a  diversity  of  nature, 
rising  from  their  diversity  of  affections ;  not  unlike  to  that 
we  see  in  stones  brought  together  for  building  of  an 
edifice.     For  as  that  stone  which  by  the  asperity,  and 
irregularity  of  figure,  takes  more  room  from  others,  than 
itself  fills ;'  and  for  the  hardness,  cannot  be  easily  made 
plain,  and  thereby  hindereth  the  building,  is  by  the  build- 
ers cast  away  as  unprofitable,  and  troublesome :  so  also,  a 
man  that  by  asperity  of  nature,  will  strive  to  retain  those 
things  which  to  himself  are  superfluous,  and  to  others  nec- 
essary ;  and  for  the  stubbornness  of  his  passions,  cannot  be 
corrected,  is  to  be  left,  or  cast  out  of  society,  as  cumber- 
some thereunto.  For  seeing  every  man,  not  only  by  right, 
but  also  by  necessity  of  nature,  is  supposed  to  endeavour 
all  he  can,  to  obtain  that  which  is  necessary  for  his  conser- 
vation ;  he  that  shall  oppose  himself  against  it,  for  things 
superfluous,  is  guilty  of  the  war  that  thereupon  is  to  fol- 
low; and 'therefore  doth  that,  which  is  contrary  to  the 
fundamental  law  of  nature,  which  commandeth  to  seek 
peace.  The  observers  of  this  law,  may  j^e  called  sociable 
the  Latins  call  them  commodi;  thp^rnntrarv   stuhhnrM,  in- 
sociable,  froward,  intractable, 

A  sixth  law  of  nature,  is  this,  that  upon  caution  of  the 
future  time,  a  man  ought  to  pardon  the  offences  past  of 
them  that  repenting,  desire  it.  For  pardon,  is  nothing  but 
granting  of  peace;  which  though  granted  to  them  that 
persevere  in  their  hostility,  be  not  peace,  but  fear ;  yet  not 
granted  to  them  that  give  caution  of  the  future  time,  is 


LAWS  OF  NATURE 


^ 


c^ 


nsr 


sign  of  an  aversion  to  peace ;  and  therefore  contrary  to  the 

'^"a  sn  is.  tHat  in  re.en,es.  that  is.  -mbut^H 
evil  for  evil.  n.en  look  not  at  the  f  ^f  ^^^^^  J  .^^^^^^^^ 
but  the  greatness  of  the  good  to  follo^.  Whereby  we 
forbidden  to  inflict  punishment  ^ilh  any  o*er  des.gn 
than  for  correction  of  the  offender,  or  direction  of  othe«^ 
For  this  law  is  consequent  to  the  next  before  it  that  con^ 
mandeth  pardon,  upon  security  of  the  future  t^e     Be- 
sides revenge  without  respect  to  the  example,  and  profat 
^ome  is  a  triumph,  or  glorying  in  the  hurt  of  another 
Iding  to  no  end;,  for  the  end  is  always  somewh  t    o 
come;  and  glorying  to  no  end.  is  vam-glory^and  ^o  W 
to  reason,  and  to  hurt  without  reason,  tendeth  to  *e  'utK. 
duction  of  war;  which  is  against  the  law  of  nature, 
is  commonly  styled  by  the  name  olcnidtil^ 

And  because  all  signs  of  hatred  or  co^^fn?^  provoke 
to  fight  •  insomuch  as  most  men  choose  rather  to  hazard 
It'lif;.  than  n6t  to  be  revenged ;  we  may  in  the  ag^ 
nlace  for  a  law  of  nature,  set  down  this  precept,  that  no. 
tan  by  deed,  word,  countenance,  or  gestur\declare 
ZZr  contempt  of  another.  The  breach  of  which  law.j 
is  commonly  called  contumely. 

The  question  who  is  the  better  man,  has  no  place  13, 
the  -^^»2;nn  of  mere  nature;  where,  as  has  been  shewn 
Sf"all  menarTiiir  Jhe  inequality  that  jiovps.  l^ 

SrnrtE^^st  book  of  his  PMi^ior  a  foundation  of 
his  doctrine,  maketh  men  by  nature,  some  -ore  worthy 
to  command,  meaning  the  wiser  sort  such  as  he  thought 
himself  to  be  for  his  philosophy ;  others  to  serve,  mean- 
ing those  that  had  strong  bodies,  but  were  not  phUoso- 
ohers  as  he;  as  if  master  and  servant  were  not  intro- 
duced by  consent  of  men,  but  by  difference  of  wit:  which 


NATURAL  LAWS 


289 


288 


LEVLA.THAN 


% 


is  not  only  against  reason ;  but  also  against  experience. 

For  there  are  very  few  so  foolish,  that  had  not  rather 

govern  themselves,  than  be  governed  by  others:  nor  when 

the  wise  in  their  own  conceit,  contend  by  force,  with  them 

who  distrust  their  own  wisdom,  do  they  always,  or  often, 

or  almost  at  any  time,  get  the  victory.  If  nature  therefore 

have  made  men  equal,  that  equality  is  to  be  acknowledged : 

or  if  nature  have  made  men  unequal ;  yet  because  men  that 

think  themselves  equal,  will  not  enter  into  conditions  of 

peace  but  upon  equal  terms,  such  equality  must  be  ad- 

1  mitted.    And  therefore  for  the  ninth  law  of  nature,  I  put 

A  this,  that  every  man  acknowledge  another  {or  his  equal  by 

\nature.    The  breach  of  this  precept  is  pride. 

On  this  law,  dependeth  another,  that  at  the  entrance 
into  conditions  of  peace,  no  man  require  to  reserve  to 
himself  any  right,  which  he  is  not  content  should  be  re- 
served to  every  one  of  the  rest.    As  it  is  necessary  for  all 
men  that  seek  peace,  to  lay  down  certain  rights  of  nature; 
that  is  to  say,  not  to  have  liberty  to  do  all  they  list :  so 
is  it  necessary  for  man's  Ufe,  to  reUin  some ;  as  right  to 
govern  their  own  bodies ;  enjoy  air,  water,  motion,  ways 
to  go  from  place  to  place ;  and  all  things  else,  without 
which  a  man  cannot  live,  or  not  live  well.    If  in  this  case, 
at  the  making  of  peace,  men  require  for  themselves,  that 
which  they  would  not  have  to  be  granted  to  others,  they  do 
contrary  to  the  precedent  law,  that  commandeth  the 
acknowledgment  of  natural  equality,  and  therefore  also 
against  the  law  of  nature.    The  observers  of  this  law,  are 
those  we  call  modest,  and  the  breakers  (frroiOOt  men. 
The  Greeks  calTthTviolation  of  this  law  itXcovt^ia-,   that 
is,  a  desire  of  more  than  their  share.' 


•Compare  De  Corpore  Politico,  (M.. IV,  103).  'As.twas 
necessaS  that  a  man  should  not  retain  his  right  to  every  thine. 
STalso^as  U,  that  he  should  retain  his  right  to  some  thmgs: 


It 


V 


® 


:Xb:t:.::^^^^^^^^ 

o'f  men  cannot  be  f  ^^^f^^J^^'at  Chim  lies,  to  deter 

^Tnira^inrthi  Umental  law  of  nature,  is  the 

cause  of  war.  j^^       ^1  distribution 

The  observance  of  this  law.  iro      .  ,-__;eth^  him,  is 

to  each  man,  ol2!l:J;J«!^^S^fSSive  jus- 
called  EgUITY.-ana;  asTrtiav  ^poaa,r.oX7,M 

tice:  tET^iSUtion,  "f^^'T  °^J^  C  tfcaf  .«cfc  things 

^  as  cannot  be  d»^f.^'  J/  2hng  permit,  without  sttnt; 
.   and  if  the  quantty  of  the  ^J^^JJ  ,^^  ,;,„,  have 

otherwise  ^''t"''''°.;f,LVdii4^^^^  is  ^equal,  and  con- 
right.    For  otherwise  the  distnoui 

trary  to  equity.  neither  be  divided. 

But  some  things  there  be.  ^la^^^f     ^^  ^^^^^^_  ^^^^^ 

nor  enjoyed  in  common.    Then,  tn  ^ 

prescribeth  equity,  ^'Zfj'lhelst  possession,  be 
else,  making  ^^^^Z^.^^ri^^.tion.  is  of  the  law 
oSretnS  olr  means'  of  equal  distribution  cannot  be 
imagined.  arbitrary,  and  natural. 

fhe  law  of  nature  command  any,°^!*?  "fthout  the  loss  of  peace. 
lK4y  which  cannot  be  -^-^^^th^en  we  -*-  into^','*^! 
Seeing  then  many  rights  are  r  ^^^^  dictateth,  ir  no. 

h^i^^'^^^^^'^"""" " "'""" "" 

man  to  retain  the  same. 


.^/ 


290 


LEVIATHAN 


ors :  natural,  is  either  primogeniture,  which  the  Greek  calls 
xXrjpouopiia,  which  signifies,  given  by  lot;  or  Hrst  seizure. 
And  therefore  those  things  which  cannot  be  enjoyed 
in  common,  nor  divided  ought  to  be  adjudged  to  the  first 
possessor ;  and  in  some  cases  to  the  first  born,  as  acquired 

bv  lot. 

ilt  is  also  a  law  of  nature,  that  all  men  that  mediate 
peace,  be  alloived  safe  conduct.  For  the  law  that  com- 
mandeth  peace,  a?  the  end,  commandeth  intercession,  as 
the  means;  and  to  intercession  the  means  is  safe  conduct. 
And  because,  though  men  be  never  so  willing  to  ob- 
serve these  laws,  there  may  nevertheless  arise  questions 
concerning  a  man's  action;  first,  whether  it  were  done, 
or  not  done ;  secondly,  if  done,  whether  against  the  law, 
or  not  against  the  law;  the  former  whereof,  is  called  a 
question  of  fact;  the  latter  a  question  of  right,  ihtrtiort 
unless  the  parties  to  the  question,  covenant  mutually  to 
stand  to  the  sentence  of  another,  they  are  as  far  from 
peace  as  ever.  This  other  to  whose  sentence  they  submit 
is  called  an  arbitrator.  And  therefore  it  is  of  the  law  of 
nature,  that  they  that  are  at  controversy,  submit  their 
right  to  the  judgment  of  .an  arbitrator. 

And  seeing  every  man  is  presumed  to  do  all  things 
/     n^5  '^  order  to  his  own  benefit,  no  man  is  a  fit  arbitrator  in 
^5  his  own  cause;  and  if  he  were  never  so  fit;  yet  equity 

allowing  to  each  party  equal  benefit,  if  one  be  admitted 
to  be  judge,  the  other  is  to  be  admitted  also ;  and  so  the 
controversy,  that  is,  the  cause  of  war,  remains,  against 
the  law  of  nature. 
^      For  the  same  reason  no  man  in  any  cause  ought  to  be 
/    -^  jS  received  for  arbitrator,  to  whom  greater  profit,  or  honour, 
C^  *y      or  pleasure  apparently  ariseth  out  of  the  victory  of  one 
party,  than  of  the  other :  for  he  hath  taken,  though  an  un- 
avoidable bribe,  yet  a  bribe ;  and  no  man  can  be  obliged  to 


i 


NATURAL  LAWS 


291 


trust  him.    And  thus  also  the  controversy,  and  the  con- 
dition of  war  remaineth,  contrary  to  the  law  of  nature. 

And  in  a  controversy  of  fact,  the  judge  being  to  give 
more  credit  to  one,  than  to  the  other,  if  there  be  no 
other  arguments,  must  give  credit  to  a  third ;  or  to  a  third 
and  fourth ;  or  more :  for  else  the  question  is  undecided, 
and  left  to  force,  contrary  to  the  law  of  nature. 

These  are  the  laws  of  nature,  dictating  peace,  for  a  1 
means  of  the  conservation  of  m^iTm  multitudes ;  and  I 
which  only  concern  the  doctrine  of  civil  society.  There 
be  other  things  tending  to  the  destruction  of  particular 
f  Ml  men ;  as  drunkenness,  and  all  other  parts  of  intemperance ; 
which  may  therefore  also  be  reckoned  amongst  those 
things  which  the  law  of  nature  hath  forbidden ;  but  are 
not  necessary  to  be  mentioned,  nor  are  pertinent  enough 

to  this  place.  ,   ,    ^.        i 

And  though  this  may  seem  too  subtle  a  deduction  ot 
the  laws  of  nature,  to  be  taken  notice  of  by  all  men ;  where- 
of  the  most  part  are  too  busy  in  getting  food,  and  the  rest 
too  negligent  to  understand;  yet  to  leave  aUmenjnex- 
^iicohiP^^t^have  been  contracted  into  c  """^ 

telh^ible  even  to  the  mpanest  capacity; 

not  that  to  another,  zvhich  thou  wouldst  not  have  done  t± 
ihyselfj  which  sheweth  him,  that  he  has  no  more  to  do  m 
learning  the  laws  of  nature,  but,  when  weighing  the 
actions  of  other  men  with  his  own,  they  seem  too  heavy, 
to  put  them  into  the  other  part  of  the  balance,  and  his 
own  into  their  place,  that  his  own  passions,  and  self-love, 
may  add  nothing  to  the  weight ;  and  then  there  is  none 
of  these  laws  of  nature  that  will  not  appear  unto  him 

very  reasonable. 

The  laws  of  nature  oblige  in  foro  interna;  that  is  to 
say  they  bind  to  a  desire  they  should  take  place:  but 
in  foro  externa;  that  is,  to  the  putting  them  in  act,  not 


V 


LEVIATHAN 


NATURAL  LAWS 


2Q3 


always.  For  he  that  should  be  modest,  and  tractable, 
and  perform  all  he  promises,  in  such  time,  and  place, 
where  no  man  else  should  do  so,  should  but  make  himself 
a  prey  to  others,  and  procure  his  own  certain  ruin,  con- 
trary to  the  ground  of  all  laws  of  nature,  which  tend  to 
nature's  preservation.  And  again,  he  that  having  suf- 
ficient security,  that  others  shall  observe  the  same  laws  to- 
wards him,  observes  them  not  himself,  seeketh  not  peace, 
but  war ;  and  consequently  the  destruction  of  his  nature 

bv  violence. 

And  whatsoever  laAvs  bind  in  foro  interno,  may  be 
broken,  not  only  by  a  fact  contrar>'  to  the  law,  but  also 
by  a  fact  according  to  it,  in  case  a  man  think  it  contrary. 
For  though  his  action  in  this  case,  be  according  to  the 
law ;  yet  his  purpose  was  against  the  law ;  which,  where 
the  obligatior.  is  in  foro  inierno,  is  a  breach. 

The  laws  of  nature  are  immutable  and  eternaU  for  I'n- 
justice,  mgratitude,  arrogance,  pride,  iniquity,  acception 
of  persons,  and  the  rest,  can  never  be  made  lawful.  For 
it  can  never  be  that  war  shall  preserve  Hfe,  and  peace  de- 
stroy it.' 

The  same  laws,  because  they  oblige  only  to  a  desire, 
and  endeavour,  I  mean  an  unfeignec'  and  constant  en- 
deavour, are  easy  to  be  observed.  Foi  in  that  they  require 
nothing  but  endeavour,  he  that  endeavoureth  their  per- 
formance, fulfilleth  them ,  and  he  that  f ulfilleth  the  law, 

is  just. 

And  the  science  of  them,  is  the  true  and  only  moral 

"Compare  Philosophical  Rudiments,  (M.  II.  50).  "The 
same  lav  which  is  natural  and  moral,  is  also  wont  to  be  called 
divine,  nor  undeservedly ;  a*  well  because  reason,  which  is  the  law 
of  nature,  is  given  by  God  to  every  man  for  the  rule  ot  his  ac- 
tions ;  a*  because  the  precepts  of  living  which  are  thence  derived, 
arc  the  same  with  those  which  have  been  delivered  from  the  di- 
vine Majesty  for  the  laivs  of  his  heavenly  kingdom,  by  our  Lord 


"philosophy  >s  nothing  else  but 


feidiiiiwH^^ 

^i^  our  appetites,  and  aversions;  which  ^n  different 
tempers,  customs,  and  doctrines  of  men,  are  different 
and  divers  men,  differ  not  only  in  their  judgment  on  the 
senses  of  what  is  pleasant,  and  unpleasant  to  the  taste, 
smell,  hearing,  touch,  and  sight ;  but  also  o   what  |s  c^^^ 
formable,  or  disagreeable  to  reason,  m  the  actions  o 
common  life.    Miy,  the  same  man,  m  divers  tini^^  differs 
from  himself;  and  one  time  praiseth,  that  is,  calleth  good^ 
what  another  time  he  dispraiseth,  and  caUeth  7I:  from 
whence  arise  disputes,  controversies    and  at  last  war 
And  therefore  so  long  as  a  mPii  is  m  the  condition  of 
mere  nature,  which  is  a  condition  of  war  as  private  appe- 
tite is  the  measure  of  good,  and  evil :  and  consequently  all 
men  agree  on  this,  that  peace  is  good,  and  therefore  also 
the  way,  or  meansofpeace,  which,  as  I  have  shewed  be- 
f(5?r are  justice,  gratiHTde,  modesty,  equity,  mercy,  and 
the  rest  of  the  laws  of  nature,  are_good ;  that  is  to  s^ 
mora!  virtues:  and  their  contrary  vices,  evil.    Now  the 
s'dSice  of  virtue  and  vice,  is  moral  philosophy ;  and  there- 
\fore  the  true  doctrine  of  the  laws  of  nature   is  the  true 
Imoral  philosophy.    But  the  writers  of  moral  philosophy, 
though  they  acknowledge  the  same  virtues  and  vices ;  yet 
not  seeing  wherein  consisted  their  goodness;  nor  that 
they  come  to  be  praised,  as  the  means  of  peaceable,  soci- 
able,  and  comfortable  living,  place  them  in  a  mediocrity  of 
passions :  as  if  not  the  cause,  but  the  degree  of  danng, 


Jesus  Christ,  and  his  holy  P^2P^?;.^/"^mTv  ^224)     ^TheVaw 

nature.  God  Almighty ;  and  the  law  of  God  taught  Dy  our  oa 
iour  Christ,  is  the  moral  law. 

•Compare  above  p.  i?©* ».  I.  A   ^        ^  T^  ^ 


294 


LEVIATHAN 


made  fortitude;  or  not  the  cause,  but  the  quantity  of  a 
gift,  made  liberality. 

These  dictates  of  reason,  men  used  to  call  by  the  name 
of  laws,  but  improperly:  for  they  are  but  conclusions, 
or  theorems  concerning  what  conduceth  to  the  conser- 
vation and  defence  of  themselves ;  whereas  law,  properly, 
is  the  word  of  him,  that  by  right  hath  command  over 
others.  But  vet  if  we  consider  the  same  theorems,  as 
delivered  in  the  word  of  God,  that  by  right  commandeth 
all  things;  then  are  they  properly  calledl' laws. 


PARALLEL   CHAPTER   FROM 

PHILOSOPHICAL  RUDIMENTS  CONCERNING 

GOVERNMENT. 
CHAPTER  III. 

OF  THE  OTHER  LAWS  OF  NATURE. 

y^^l.  Another  of  the  laws  of  nature  is,  to  perform  con- 
tracts, or  to  keep  trust.  For  it  hath  been  showed  in  the 
foregoing  chapter,  that  the  law  of  nature  commands 
every  man,  as  a  thing  necessary,  to  obtain  peace,  to  con- 
vey certain  rights  from  each  to  other;  and  that  this,  as 
often  as  it  shall  happen  to  be  done,  is  called  a  contract. 
But  this  is  so  far  forth  only  conducible  to  peace,  as  we 
shall  perform  ourselves  what  we  contract  with  others 
shall  be  done  or  omitted ;  and  in  vain  would  contracts  be 
made,  unless  we  stood  to  them.  Because  therefore  to 
stand  to  our  covenants,  or  to  keep  faith,  is  a  thing  neces- 
sary for  the  obtaining  of  peace;  it  will  prove,  by  the 
second  article  of  the  second  chapter,  to  be  a  precept  of  the 
natural  law. 

2.  Neither  is  there  in  this  matter  any  exception  of  the 
persons  with  whom  we  contract ;  as  if  they  keep  no  faith 
with  others,  or  hold  that  none  ought  to  be  kept,  or  are 


LAWS  OF  NATURE 


»95 


guilty  of  any  other  kind  of  vice.  For  he  that  contracts, 
in  that  he  doth  contract,  denies  that  action  to  be  in  vain ; 
and  it  is  against  reason  for  a  knowing  man  to  do  a  thing 
in  vain ;  and  if  he  think  himself  not  bound  to  keep  it,  in 
thinking  so  he  affirms  the  contract  to  be  made  in  vain. 
He  therefore  who  contracts  with  one  with  whom  he 
thinks  he  is  not  bound  to  keep  faith,  he  doth  at  once 
think  a  contract  to  be  a  thing  done  in  vain,  and  not  in 
vain;  which  is  absurd.  Either  therefore  we  must  hold 
trust  with  all  men,  or  else  not  bargain  with  them ;  that  is, 
either  there  must  be  a  declared  war,  or  a  sure  and  faith- 
ful  peace. 

3.  The  breaking  of  a  bargain,  as  also  the  taking  back 
of  a  gift,  (which  ever  consists  in  some  action  or  omis- 
sion), is  called  an  injury.    But  that  action  or  omission 
is  called  unjust;  insomuch  as  an  injury,  and  an  unjust 
action  or  omission,  signify  the  same  thing,  and  both 
are  the  same  with  breach  of  contract  and  trust.    And 
it  seems  the  word  injury  came  to  be  given  to  any  action 
or  omission,  because  they  were  without  right;  he  that 
acted  or  omitted,  having  before  conveyed  his  right  to 
some  other.     And  there  is  some  likeness  between  that 
which  in  the  common  course  of  life  we  call  injury,  and 
that  which  in  the  Schools  is  usually  called  absurd.    For 
even  as  he  who  by  arguments  is  driven  to  deny  the  as- 
sertion which  he  first  maintained,  is  said  to  be  brought  to 
an  absurdity ;  in  like  manner,  he  who  through  weakness 
of  mind  does  or  omits  that  which  before  he  had  by 
contract  promised  not  to  do  or  omit,  commits  an  injury, 
and  falls  into  no  less  contradiction  than  he  who  in  the 
Schools  is  reduced  to  an  absurdity.     For  by  contract- 
ing for  some  future  action,  he  wills  it  done ;  by  not  domg 
it,  he  wills  it  not  done :  which  is  to  will  a  thing  done  and 
not  done  at  the  same  time,  which  is  a  contradiction. 


296 


LEVIATHAN 


An  injury  therefore  is  a  kind  of  absurdity  in  conver- 
sation, as  an  absurdity  is  a  kind  of  injury  in  disputation. 
4.  From  these  grounds  it  follows,  that  an  injury  can 
be  done  to  no  man*  but  him  with  whom  we  enter  coven- 
ant, or  to  whom  somewhat  is  made  over  by  deed  of  gift, 
or  to  whom  somewhat  is  promised  by  way  of  bargain. 
And  therefore  damaging  and  injuring  are  often  disjoin- 
ed. For  if  a  master  command  his  servant,  who  hath 
promised  to  obey  him,  to  pay  a  sum  of  money,  or  carry 
some  present  to  a  third  man ;  the  servant,  if  he  do  it  not, 
hath  indeed  damaged  this  third  party,  but  he  injured 
his  master  only.  So  also  in  a  civil  government,  if  any 
man  offend  another  with  whom  he  hath  made  no  contract, 
he  damages  him  to  whom  the  evil  is  done;  but  he  injures 
none  but  him  to  whom  the  power  of  government  be- 
longs. For  if  he  who  receives  the  hurt  should  expos- 
tulate the  mischief,  he  that  did  it  should  answer  thus: 
what  art  thou  to  me;  why  should  I  rather  do  according 
to  your  than  mine  own  will,  since  I  do  not  hinder  but 
you  may  do  your  own,  and  not  my  mind?  In  which 
speech,  where  there  hath  no  manner  of  pre-contract 
passed,  I  see  not,  I  confess,  what  is  reprehensible. 
5.  These  words,  just  and  unjust,  as  also  justice  and 


*Injury  can  be  done  to  no  man,  &€.]  The  word  injustice  re- 
lates to  some  law :  injury,  to  some  person,  as  well  as  some  law. 
For  what  is  unjust,  is  unjust  to  all;  but  there  may  an  injury  be 
done,  and  yet  not  against  me,  nor  thee,  but  some  other;  and 
sometimes  against  no  private  person,  but  the  magistrate  only; 
sometimes  also  neither  against  the  magistrate,  nor  any  private 
man,  but  only  against  God.  For  through  contract  and  conveyance 
of  right,  we  say,  that  an  injury  is  done  against  this  or  that  man. 
Hence  it  is,  which  we  see  in  all  kind  of  government,  that  what 
private  men  contract  between  themselves  by  word  or  writing, 
is  released  again  at  the  will  of  the  obligor.  But  those  mischiefs 
which  are  done  against  the  laws  of  the  land,  as  theft,  homicide, 
and  the  like,  are  punished,  not  as  he  wills  to  whom  the  hurt  is 
done,  but  according  to  the  will  of  the  magistrate;  that  is.  the 
constituted  laws. 


LAWS  OF  NATURE 


297 


inmtice.  are  equivocal ;  for  they  signify  one  thing  when 
Aey  a^e  attributed  to  persons,  another  when  to  nxttons 
When  thev  are  attributed  to  actions,  ,ust  signifies  as 
Ich  as  what  is  done  with  right,  and  un,ust,  as  what  .s 
Tne  with  iniury.    He  who  hath  done  some  just    hmg. 
is  not  therefore  said  to  be  a  just  person,  but  gmltless 
and  he  that  hath  done  some  unjust  thing,  we  do  not 
Aerete  say  he  is  an  unjust,  but  ^iy  man     Bu   wh^    . 
the  words  are  appUed  to  persons,  to  he  ,ust  signifies  as 
m^ch  as  to  be  delighted  in  just  dealing,  to  s^dy  how  to 
do  righteousness,  or  to  endeavour  m  all  thmgs  to  do 
that  Ihich  is  just;  and  to  be  unjust  is  to  neglect  right- 
eous dealing,  or  to  think  it  is  to  be  measured  no^  ac- 
cordine  to  my  contract,  but  some  present  benefit,    bo  as 
he    justice   or    injustice   of    the    mind,   the    intention, 
or  the  mal  is  oni  thing,  that  of  an  action  or  omission 
another;  and  innumerable  actions  of  a  jus^  man  may 
be  unjust,  and  of  an  unjust  man    just     Jut  fat  man 
is  to  be  accounted  just,  who  doth  just  thmgs  because 
;L  law  commands  it.  unjust  tHmg-"^^^^^  ^J^ 
his  infirmity ;  and  he  is  properly  said  to  ^e  unjus^^  w 
doth  righteousness  for  fear  of  the  V^^'^^^fJ"?^^, 
unto  the  law.  and  unrighteousness  by  reason  of  the  m 

'"I'TL'^justiS'of  actions  is  commonly  distinguished 
into  t  Jo  kiid;  commutative  and  distributive  yhej™ 


298 


LEVIATHAN 


is  more  worthy,  and  less  to  him  that  deserves  less,  and 
that  proportionably ;  hence,  they  say,  ariseth  distributive 
justice.  I  acknowledge  here  some  certain  distinction  of 
equality :  to  wit,  that  one  is  an  equality  simply  so  called ; 
as  when  two  things  of  equal  value  are  compared  together, 
as  a  pound  of  silver  with  twelve  ounces  of  the  same 
silver :  the  other  is  an  equality  secundum  quod;  as  when 
a  thousand  pounds  is  to  be  divided  to  a  hundred  men, 
six  hundred  pounds  are  given  to  sixty  men,  and  four 
hundred  to  forty,  where  there  is  no  equality  between 
six  hundred  and  four  hundred;  but  when  it  happens 
that  there  is  the  same  inequality  in  the  number  of  them 
to  whom  •it  is  distributed,  every  one  of  them  shall  take 
an  equal  part,  whence  it  is  called  an  equal  distribution. 
But  such  like  equality  is  the  same  thing  with  geomet- 
rical proportion.  But  what  is  all  this  to  justice?  For 
neither  if  I  sell  my  goods  for  as  much  as  I  can  get  for 
them,  do  I  injure  the  buyer,  who  sought  and  desired 
them  of  me;  neither  if  I  divide  more  of  what  is  mine 
to  him  who  deserves  less,  so  long  as  I  give  the  other 
what  I  have  agreed  for,  do  I  wrong  to  either.  Which 
truth  our  Saviour  himself,  being  God,  testifies  in  the 
Gospel.  This  therefore  is  no  distihction  of  justice,  but  of 
equality.  Yet  perhaps  it  cannot  be  denied  but  that  jus- 
tice is  a  certain  equality,  as  consisting  in  this  only;  that 
since  we  are  all  equal  by  nature,  one  should  not  arrogate 
more  right  to  himself  than  he  grants  to  another,  unless 
he  have  fairly  gotten  it  by  compact.  And  let  this  suf- 
fice to  be  spoken  against  this  distinction  of  justice,  al- 
though now  almost  generally  received  by  all;  lest  any 
man  should  conceive  an  injury  to  be  somewhat  else 
than  the  breach  of  faith  or  contract,  as  hath  been  de- 
fined above. 

7.  It  is  an  old   saying,  volenti  non  fit  injuria,  the 


LAWS  OF  NATURE 


199 


willing  man  receives  no  injury ;  yet  the  truth  of  it  may 
be  derived  from  our  principles.  For  grant  that  a  man  be 
willing  that  that  should  be  done  which  he  conceives  to 
be  an  injury  to  him;  why  then,  that  is  done  by  his  will, 
which  by  contract  was  not  lawful  to  be  done.  But  he 
being  willing  that  should  be  done  which  was  not  law- 
ful by  contract,  the  contract  itself  (by  the  fifteendi  art- 
icle of  the  foregoing  chapter)  becomes  void.  The  right 
therefore  of  doing  it  returns ;  therefore  it  is  done  by 
right;  wherefore  it  is  no  injury. 

8.  The  third  precept  of  the  natural  law  is,  that  you 
suffer  not  him  to  be  the  worse  for  you,  who,  out  of  the 
confidence  he  had  in  you,  first  did  you  a  good  turn;  or 
that  you  accept  not  a  gift,  but  with  a  mind  to  endeavour 
that  the  giver  shall  have  no  just  occasion  to  repent  htm 
of  his  gift.    For  without  this,  he  should  act  without  rea- 
son, that  would  confer  a  benefit  where  he  sees  it  would  be 
lost-  and  by  this  means  all  beneficence  and  trust,  to- 
gether with  all  kind  of  benevolence,  would  be  taken  from 
among  men,  neither  would  there  be  aught  of  mutual 
assistance  among  them,  nor  any  commencement  of  gam- 
ing grace  and  favour;  by  reason  whereof  the  state  of  war 
would  necessarily  remain,  contrary  to  the  fundamental 
law  of  nature.  But  because  the  breach  of  this  law  is  not 
a  breach  of  trust  or  contract,  (for  we  suppose  no  con- 
tracts to  have  passed  among  them),  therefore  is  it  nc^ 
usually  termed  an  injury;  but  because  good  turns  and 
thanks  have  a  mutual  eye  to  each  other,  it  is  calld  in- 
gratitude. 

9     The  fourth  precept  of  nature  is,  that  every  man 

render  himself  useful  unto  others:  which  that  we  may 
rightly  understand,  we  must  remember  that  there  is  m 
men  a  diversity  of  dispositions  to  enter  into  society, 
arising  from  the  diversity  of  their  affections,  not  unlike 


<i 


jt ' 


5 


^- 


I, 


300  LEVIATHAN 

that  which  is  found  in  stones,  brought  together  in  the 
building,  by  reason  of  the  diversity  of  their  matter  and 
figure     For  as  a  stone,  which  in  regard  of  its  sharp  and 
angular  form  takes  up  more  room  from  other  stones  than 
it  fills  up  itself,  neither  because  of  the  hardness  of  its  mat- 
ter can  it  well  be  pressed  together,  or  easily  cut,  and 
would  hinder  the  building  from  being  fitly  compacted, 
is  cast  away,  as  not  fit  for  use :  so  a  man,  for  the  harsh- 
ness of  his  disposition  in  retaining  superfluities  for  him- 
self and  detaining  of  necessaries  from  others,  and  being 
incorrigible  by  reason  of  the  stubbomess  of  his  affections, 
is  commonly  said  to  be  useless  and  troublesome  unto 
others     Now,  because  each  one  not  by  right  only,  but 
even  by  natural  necessity,  is  supposed  with  all  his  main 
might  to  intend  the  procurement  of  those  things  which 
are  necessary   to   his   own    preservation ;    if    any    man 
will  contend  on  the  other  side  for  superfluities,  by  his 
default  there  will  arise  a  war ;  because  that  on  him  alone 
there  lay  no  necessity  of  contending;  he  therefore  acts 
against  the  fundamental  law  of  nature.    Whence  it  fol- 
lows,  (which  we  were  to  show),  that  it  is  a  precept  of 
nature,    that    every  man  accommodate  himself  to  others. 
But  he  who  breaks  this  law,  may  be  called  useless  and 
troublesome.     Yet  Cicero  opposeth  inhumamty  to  this 
usefulness,  as  having  regard  to  this  very  law. 

10.  The  fifth  precept  of  the  law  of  nature  is,  that 
we  must  forgive  him  who  repents  and  asks  pardon  for 
what  is  past,  having  first  taken  caution  for  the  tme  to 
come  The  pardon  of  what  is  past,  or  the  remission  of 
an  offence,  is  nothing  else  but  the  granting  of  peace  to 
him  that  asketh  it,  after  he  hath  warred  against  us,  and 
now  is  become  penitent.  But  peace  granted  to  him  that 
repents  not,  that  is,  to  him  that  retains  a  hostile  mind, 
or  that  gives  not  caution  for  the  future,  that  is,  weks  not 


LAWS  OF  NATURE  3P» 

peace,  but  opportunity;  is  not  properly  peace  but  fear, 
^d  therefore  is  not  commanded  by  nature.  Now  to  h.m 
that  will  not  pardon  the  penitent  and  that  gives  future 
caution,  peace  itself  it  seems  is  not  pleasmg:  which  is 

contrary  to  the  natural  law.  .l  ,  ;- 

II  The  sixth  precept  of  the  natural  law  is,  that  .» 
revenze  and  punishments  we  must  have  our  eye  not  at  / 
,;,.  m7  past,  but  the  future  ^aod;  that  is  it  is  not  lawful 
to  inflict  punishment  for  any  other  end,  ^iMiaUhe 
offender  maybe.corr££ted,  oj:thaLotherpanied.ijUi.s 
puHISlmig^ilbgme  better.  Bui  this  k^  confirmed 
^r:3TTrT??;;;TT^e.  that  each  man  is  bound  by  the  law 

^;fti;^rpTr.re.  because  r'-vp"r«'i  '*  the  time, 
past  Be  oiux-..a.sidgrfd.  is  nothing  else  but  a  certain 
«^h^^^^gg^Ln^^  "o  end;  for 

tfOT^'pIStirSHlT^SlSnriiirburth    end.s  a  thing 
to  coiTi£4Jjutahat^whklU8^i«€t«d^^  ^^'"  • 

■gStrevenge  therefore  which  regards  jij 
proceedsfronj^anriiorv.  and  isjhereforejutboy  a- 
ii^;^-^|T;;p^,.,.  ,nnth.r  with^^Ureason,  m  roduces 
T;^r.  aiir?i-^5Ht7rryj0jhLiaM'''^<-"tai  law  01  nattir^ 
-ir^TEefilSSXi^^^^prCf  the  law  ol  "^Lulc.  lliat  in 
-f;^;S^r;^1ook  not  backwards,  but  forward.    Nowjhe 
breach  uflUtriawlscommonly_c^^ 

~ ^3     tj„t  because  air  signs  of  haUed  and  contempt 

provoke  most  of  all  to  brawling  and  fighting,  insomuch 
L  most  men  would  rather  lose  their  lives  (that  I  say  not 
their  peace)  than  suffer  slander ;  it  follows  in  the  seventh 
place,  that  it  is  prescribed  by  the  law  of  nature  hat  no 
man.  either  by  deeds  or  words,  countenance  or  laughter  ^ 
do  declare  himself  to  hate  or  scorn  another  The  breach 
of  which  law  is  called  reproach.    But  although  nothing 


1!'  ill 


II 


I 


>A^ 


'I 


302 


LEVIATHAN 


be  more  frequent  than  the  scoffs  and  jeers  of  the  power- 
ful against  the  weak,  and  namely,  of  judges  against 
guilty  persons,  which  neither  relate  to  the  offense  of  the 
guilty,  nor  the  duty  of  the  judges ;  yet  these  kind  of  men 
do  act  against  the  law  of  nature,  and  are  to  be  esteemed 
for  contumelious. 

13.  The  question  whether  of  two  men  be  the  more  wor- 
thy, belongs  not  to  the  natural,  but  civil  state.  For  it  hath 
been  showed  before  (Chap.  i.  Art.  3)  that  all  men  by 
nature  are  equal ;  and  therefore  the  inequality  which  now 
is,  suppose  from  riches,  power,  nobility  of  kindred,  is 
come  from  the  civil  law.  I  know  that  Aristotle,  in  his 
first  book  of  Politics,  affirms  as  a  foundation  of  the  whole 
political  science,  that  some  men  by  nature  are  made  wor- 
thy to  command,  others  only  to  serve;  as  if  lord  and 
servant  were  distinguished  not  by  consent  of  men,  but  by 
an  aptness,  that  is,  a  certain  kind  of  natural  knowledge  or 
ignorance.  Which  foundation  is  not  only  against  reason, 
(as  but  now  hath  been  showed),  but  also  against  expe- 
rience. For  neither  almost  is  any  man  so  dull  of  under- 
standing as  not  to  judge  it  better  to  be  ruled  by  himself, 
than  to  yield  himself  to  the  government  of  another ;  nei- 
ther if  the  wiser  and  stronger  do  contest,  have  these 
always  or  often  the  upper  hand  of  those.  Whether  there- 
fore men  be  equal  by  nature,  the  equality  is  to  be  acknowl- 
edged: or  whether  imequal,  because  they  are  like  to 
contest  for  dominion,  it  is  necessary  for  the  obtaining 
of  peace,  that  they  be  esteemed  as  equal;  and  therefore 
it  is  in  the  eighth  place  a  precept  of  the  law  of  nature, 
that  every  man  be  accounted  by  nature  equal  to  another; 
the  contrary  to  which  law  is  pride. 

14.  As  it  was  necessary  to  the  conservation  of  each 
man  that  he  should  part  with  some  of  his  rights,  so  it  is 
no  less  necessary  to  the  same  conservation  that  he  retain 


LAWS  OF  NATURE 


3P3 


some  others,  to  wit.  the  right  of  bodily  protectton  of 
re"  enjoyment  of  air,  water,  and  all  necessaries  for  hfe^ 
Since  therefore  many  common  rights  »>■« /^^f  f ^^^^ 
fhose  who  enter  into  a  peaceable  state,  and  tha^  many 
peculiar  ones  are  also  acquired,  hence  '^"f  !*  *^^  ,  ^ 
Sictate  of  the  natural  law,  to  -  \*^7^-^^^^^|ri£e  ' 

as  d^ielo  all  the  rest;  other^vise  he  f'"f  ^^^^^^.^^  ^ 
acknowledged-hrtErtormer  article,    ^or  what  «  't  d^e 

to  acknowledge  an  equality  of  P^^7^ '" /^"  '^'ef 
up  of  society,  but  to  attribute  equal  "g^^*  ^"^  pow^r 
to  those  whom  no  reason  would  else  engage  to  enter  into 
society?  But  to  ascribe  equal  things  to  eqtuils  xs  the 
me  with  giving  things  proportional  to  proportu>nah^ 
xTe  observ!tion%f  this  law  is  -lied  -..fenm  «^e 
violation  >:-leove?.'a;   the   breakers  by  the   Latms    are 

styled  immodici  et  immodestt. 

IS     In  the  tenth  place  it  is  commanded  by  the  law  of 

nature   ZZeTiJinn  dividing  right  to  others   ske^    1/ 
iZSf  equal  to'eitker  party.    By  the  foreg^g  aw  * 
are  forbidden  to  assume  more  nght  by  "^^ure  .0  our 
selves,  than  we  grant  to  others.    We  may  take  les^  >« 
we  will;  for  that  sometimes  is  an  argument  of  modes^. 
But  if  at  any  time  matter  of  right  be  to  be  divided  by 
!s  unto  others,  we  are  forbidden  by  this  law  to  favour 
1:1  or  le.  than  another.    For  he  that  b^a^ 
one  before  another  observes  not  this  natural  equahty 
reproaches  him  whom  he  thus  ""dervalu" :  but  .    is 
declared  ab^ve,  that  a  reproach  is  «^-f  ^^.^^^J.^ 
nature     The  observance  of  this  precept  is  called  equity 
thrbreach,  respect  of  persons.    The  Greeks  m  one  word 

r  6^  F;rtt:Toregoing  law  is  collected  this  eleventh 
those  ■  things  which  cannot  be  divided,  must  be  used 


u 


304 


LEVIATHAN 


-V 


\ 


'b 


toy 


in  common  if  they  can,  and  if  the  quantity  of  the  matter 
permit,  every  man  as  much  as  he  lists;  but  if  the  quan- 
tity permit  not,  then  with  limitation,  and  proportion- 
ally to  the  number  of  the  users.  For  otherwise  that 
equaHty  can  by  no  means  be  observed,  which  we  have 
showed  in  the  foregoing  article  to  be  commanded  by  the 
law  of  nature. 

17  Also  what  cannot  be  divided  nor  had  in  common, 
it  is  provided  by  the  law  of  nature,  which  may  be  the 
twelfth  precept  that  the  use  of  that  thing  be  either  by 
turns,  or  adjudged  to  one  only  by  lot;  and  that  in  the 
using  it  by  turns,  it  be  also  decided  by  lot,  who  shall 
have  the  first  use  of  it.  For  here  also  regard  is  to  be  had 
unto  equality :  but  no  other  can  be  found  but  that  of  lot. 
18.  But  all  lot  is  twofold,  arbitrary  or  natural.  Ar- 
bitrary is  that  which  is  cast  by  the  consent  of  the  contend- 
ers, and  it  consists  in  mere  chance,  as  they  say,  or  fortune. 
Natural  is  primogeniture,  in  Greek,  xX-qpovoiiia,  as  it 
were,  given  by  lot;  or  first  possession.  Therefore  the 
things  which  can  neither  be  divided  nor  had  in  common, 
must  be  granted  to  the  first  possessor ;  as  also  those  things 
which  belonged  to  the  father  are  due  to  the  son,  unless 
the  father  himself  have  formerly  conveyed  away  that 
right  to  some  other.  Let  this  therefore  stand  for  the 
thirteenth  law  of  nature. 

^^'  The  fourteenth  precept  of  the  law  of  nature  is, 
that  safety  must  be  assured  to  the  mediators  for  peace. 
For  the  reason  which  commands  the  end,  commands  also 
the  means  necessary  to  the  end.  But  the  first  dictate  of 
reason  is  peace;  all  the  rest  are  means  to  obtain  it,  and 
without  which  peace  cannot  be  had.  But  neither  can 
peace  be  had  without  mediation,  nor  mediation  without 
safety.  It  is  therefore  a  dictate  of  reason,  that  is,  a 
law  of  nature,  that  we  must  give  all  security  to  the  medi- 
ators for  peace. 


LAWS  OF  NATURE 


3>S 


^    Furthermore  because,  although  men  should  aj« 

,,    ,11  thf-Be  and  whatsoever  other  laws  of  nature, 
to  make  all  these  ana  wna  ^^^_ 

sides  supposmg  themse  ves  w      g     t^^^ause  in  this  case 
essary  to  the  preservation  ^^ J^ff '^^^^^^^^^        ,^^,  both 

J\.^r  fit  remedv  can  possibly  be  thougnt  on,  iiww 
no  other  ht  remeay  ca    v         j  ^^^^^^ 

therefore    the  fifteenth  precept  of  the  na^^  ^         \^ 
,ome  thtrd  ^^^^  ^  ^^^^„  „,  judge 

,nan  must  be  ,udg^^^  <^^  .„  ^^^  ^^..^teenth 

22.  From  the  same  gro  propounds  unto  I  J 

place  //»a/  no  *";fJ;j;%froI  the  victory  of  '  ^ 

himself  any  hope  of  profit  or  giory  / 

either  part:  for  the  like  reason  sways  here,  as  m 

'"23.'' But  when  there  is  some  controversy  of  the  fact 


il 


ml 


y6 


LEVIATHAN, 


LAWS  OF  NATURE 


307 


ii> 


i\ 


itself,  to  wit,  whether  that  be  done  or  not  which  is  said 
to  be  done,  the  natural  law  wills  that  the  arbiter  trust  both 
parties  alike,  that  is,  because  they  affirm  contradictories, 
that  he  believe  neither.  He  must  therefore  give  credit  to 
a  third,  or  a  third  and  fourth,  or  more,  that  he  may  be 
able  to  give  judgment  of  the  fact,  as  often  as  by  other 
signs  he  cannot  come  to  the  knowledge  of  it.  The  eigh- 
teenth law  of  nature  therefore  enjoins  arbiters  and  judges 
of  fact,  that  where  firm  and  certain  signs  of  the  fact  ap- 
pear not,  there  they  rule  their  sentence  by  such  witnesses 
as  seem  to  be  indifferent  to  both  parts, 

24.  From  the  above  declared  definition  of  an  arbiter 
may  be  furthermore  understood,  that  no  contract  or 
promise  must  pass  between  him  and  the  parties  whose 
judge  he  is  appointed,  by  virtue  whereof  he  may  be  en- 
gaged to  speak  in  favour  of  either  part,  nay,  or  be 
obliged  to  judge  according  to  equity,  or  to  pronounce 
such  sentence  as  he  shall  truly  judge  to  be  equal.  The 
judge  is  indeed  bound  to  give  such  sentence  as  he  shall 
judge  to  be  equal,  by  the  law  of  nature  recounted  in  the 
15th  article:  to  the  obligation  of  which  law  nothing  can 
be  added  by  way  of  compact.  Such  compact  therefore 
would  be  in  vain.  Besides,  if  giving  wrong  judgment 
he  should  contend  for  the  equity  of  it,  except  such  com- 
pact be  of  no  force,  the  controversy  would  remain  after 
judgment  given :  which  is  contrary  to  the  constitution  of 
an  arbiter,  who  is  so  chosen,  as  both  parties  have  obliged 
themselves  to  stand  to  the  judgment  which  he  should  pro- 
nounce. The  law  of  nature  therefore  (j-nrpmands  the 
judge  to  be  disenga^,  wmrh  ic  xt^  T^ipptPPntTp^pr^pf 

25.  Furtlieirmore,  forasmuch  as  the  laws  of  nature 
are  nought  else  but  the  dictates  of  reason ;  so  as,  unless 
a  man  endeavour  to  preserve  the  faculty  of  right  reason- 
ing, he  cannot  observe  the  laws  of  nature;  it  is  manifest. 


that  (he  who  knowingly  or  willingly  doth  aught  whereby 
the  mional  facultv  may  be  destroyed  or  weakened,  he 
knowingly  and  willingly  breaks  the  law  of  natureJ  For 
there  is  no  difference  between  a  man  who  preforms  not 
his  duty,  and  him  who  does  such  things  willingly  as  make 
it  impossible  for  him  to  do  it.  But  they  destroy  and 
weaken  the  reasoning  faculty,  who  do  that  which  dis- 
turbs  the  mind  from  its  natural  state ;  that  which  most 
manifestly  happens  to  drunkards,  and  gluttons.  ^  ^^ 
therefore  sin,  in  tb^  \yi^i\eth  place,  against  the  law_ot,.._ 
iiature  by  (drunkenness. 


26.    Perhaps  some  man,  who  sees  all  these  precepts 
of  nature  derived  by  a  certain  artifice  from  the  smgle 
dictate  of  reason  advising  us  to  look  to  the  preservation 
and  safeguard  of  ourselves,  will  say  that  the  deduction  of 
these  laws  is  so  hard,  that  it  is  not  to  be  expected  they 
will  be  vulgarly  known,  and  therefore  neither  will  they 
prove  obliging:  for  laws,  if  they  be  not  known,  oblige 
not  nay  indeed,  are  not  laws    To  this  1  answer,  it  is  true, 
that  hope.  fear,  anger,  ambition,  covetousness,  vam  glory, 
and  other  pertubations  of  mind,  do  hinder  a  man,  so  as  he 
cannot  attain  to  the  knowledge  of  these  laws  whilst  those 
passions  prevail  in  him :  but  there  is  no  man  who  is  not 
sometimes  in  a  quiet  mind.    At  that  time  therefore  there 
is  nothing  easier  for  him  to  know,  though  he  be  never  so 
rude  and  unlearned,  than  this  only  rule,  that  when  he 
doubts  whether  what  he  is  now  doing  to  another  may 
be  done  by  the  law  of  nature  or  not,  he  conceive  himself 
to  be  in  that  others'  stead.    Here  instantly  those  perturba- 
tions which  persuaded  him  to  the  fact,  being  now  cast 
into  the  other  scale,  dissuade  him  as  much.     And  this 
rule  is  not  only  easy,  but  is  anciently  celebrated  m  these 
words,   qtwd  tihi  fien   non  vis,  alteri  feceris:  do  not 
that  to  others,  you  would  not  have  done  to  yourself: 


ii 


308 


LEVIATHAN 


2T.     But  because  most  men,  by  reason  of  their  per- 
verse desire  of  present  profit,  are  very  unapt  to  observe 
these  laws,  although  acknowledged  by  them ;  if  perhaps 
some,  more  humble  than  the  rest,  should  exercise  that 
€quit>  and  usefulness  which  reason  dictates,  the  others 
not  practising  the  same,  surely  they  would  not  follow 
reason  in  so  doing :  nor  would  they  hereby  procure  them- 
selves peace,  but  a  more  certain  quick  destruction,  and 
the  keepers  of  the  law  become  a  mere  prey  to  the  breakers 
of  it.    It  is  not  therefore  to  be  imagined,  that  by  nature, 
that  is,  by  reason,  men  are  obliged  to  the  exercise  of  all 
these  laws*  in  that  state  of  men  wherein  they  are  not 
practiced  by  others.    We  are  obliged  yet,  in  the  interim, 
to  a  readiness  of  mind  to  observe  them,  whensoever  their 
observation  shall  seem  to  conduce  to  the  end  for  which 
they  were  ordained.     We  must  therefore  conclude,  that 
the  law  of  nature  doth  always  and  everywhere  oblige  in 
the  internal  court,  or  that  of  conscience ;  but  not  always  in 
the  external  court,  but  then  only  when  it  may  be  done 
with  safety. 

28.     But  the  laws  which  oblige  conscience,  may  be 

.u-  *^^f/-«^^''«>^  of  all  these  laws.]  Nay,  among  these  laws  some 
things  there  are,  the  omission  whereof,  provided  it  be  done  for 
peace  or  self-preservation,  seems  rather  to  be  the  fulfilling,  than 
breach  of  the  natural  law.  For  he  that  doth  all  things  against 
those  that  do  all  thmgs,  and  plunders  plunderers,  doth  equity. 
But  on  the  contrary,  to  do  that  which  in  peace  is  a  handsome 
action,  and  becoming  an  honest  man,  is  dejectedness  and  poor- 
ness of  spirit,  and  a  betraying  of  one's  self,  in  the  time  of  war. 
liut  there  are  certain  natural  laws,  whose  exercise  ceaseth  not 
even  m  the  time  of  war  itself.  For  I  cannot  understand  what 
drunkenness  or  cruelty,  that  is,  revenge  which  respects  not  the 
tuture  good^  can  advance  toward  peace,  or  the  preservation  of 
any  man.  Briefly,  in  the  state  of  nature,  what  is  just  and  unjust, 
IS  not  to  be  esteemed  by  the  actions  but  by  the  counsel  and  con- 
science of  the  actor.  That  which  is  done  out  of  necessity,  out 
of  endeavour  for  peace,  for  the  preservation  of  ourselves,  is  done 
with  right  otherwise  every  damage  done  to  a  man  would  be  a 
Dreach  of  the  natural  law,  and  an  injury  against  God 


LAWS  OF  NATURE 


309 


broken  by  an  act  not  only  contrary  to  them,  but  also 

L  the  laws  vet  his  conscience  is  against  them. 

J,     TheLs  of  nature  are  immutable  andeterruO- 

„,,  U  so  divenified  by  circumslances  and  the  ™lji». 
Zt  «h.Ti.  don.  with  «,.ity  «  on.  tin...  ;  e"^"'^ 

-  t'°?i'ShT=.  ""'^- ^2;  ..d,  how 

J    th^^wto,  n  Jt.  are  to^  o.^J^J^'^'^^ 
require  the  endeavour  onl,.^    bnt  that  must  oe 

eall  him  ,...1.    «"  '"  "  °,„,  ^  s,„,red  aecordlne  to 

rhn^"^:  oi  — :  he".how.  ^ .-  j^^  -- 

Je'with  the  mora,.    Let  » -^'■-J^:*;^^^ 

\\r^  miiQt  know   therefore,  that  good  ana  evu  <^i 

^;n  ttSlto  signify  the  inclination  or  aversion  of 


li 


,4 


310 


LEVIATHAN 


them,  by  whom  they  were  given.    But  the  inclinations  of 
men  are  diverse,  according  to  their  diverse  constitutions, 
customs,  opinions ;  as  we  may  see  in  those  things  w«  ap- 
prehend by  sense,  as  by  tasting,  touching,  smelHng;  but 
much  more  in  those  which  pertain  to  the  common  actions 
of  hfe,  where  what  this  man  commends,  that  is  to  say, 
calls  good,  the  other  undervalues,  as  being  evil.      Nay,' 
very  often  the  same  man  at  diverse  times  praises  and  dis- 
praises the  same  thing.    Whilst  thus  they  do,  necessary 
It  IS  there  should  be  discord  and  strife.    They  are,  there- 
fore, so  long  in  the  state  of  war,  as  by  reason  of 'the  di- 
versity of  the  present  appetite,  they  mete  good  and  evil 
by  diverse  measures.     All  men  easily  acknowledge  this 
state,  as  long  as  they  are  in  it,  to  be  evU,  and  bv  conse- 
quence that  peace  is  good.    They  therefore  who  could  not 
agree  concerning  a  present,  do  agree  concerning  a  future 
good ;  which  indeed  is  a  work  of  reason ;  for  things  pres- 
ent are  obvious  to  the  sense,  things  to  come  to  our  reason 
only.    Reason  declaring  peace  to  be  good,  it  follows  by 
the  same  reason,  that  all  the  necessary  means  to  peace 
be  good  also;  and  therefore  that  modesty,  equity,  trust, 
humanity,  mercy,   (which  we  have  demonstrated  to  be 
necessary  to  peace),  are  good  manners  or  habits,  that  is, 
virtues.    The  law  therefore,  in  the  means  to  peace,  com- 
mands also  good  manners,  or  the  practice  of  virtue ;  and 
therefore  it  is  called  moral. 

32.  But  because  men  cannot  put  off  this  same  irra- 
tional appetite,  whereby  they  greedily  prefer  the  present 
good  (to  which,  by  strict  consequence,  many  unforseen 
evils  do  adhere)  before  the  future;  it  happens,  that 
though  all  men  do  agree  in  the  commendation  of  the  fore- 
said virtues,  yet  they  disagree  still  concerning  their  na- 
ture, to  wit,  in  what  each  of  them  doth  consist.  For  as 
oft  as  another's  good  action  displeaseth  anv  man,  that 


LAWS  OF  NATURE 


311 


action  hath  the  name  given  of  some  neigbbounng  vice; 
likewise  the  bad  actions  which  please  them,  are  ever  en  it- 
uled  to  some  virtue.    Whence  it  comes  to  pass  that  the 
same  action  is  praised  by  these,  and  called  virtue,  and  d.s- 
;ri:ed  by  ^^Z,  and  termed  vice.    Neither  is  there  as  ye 
any  remedy  found  by  philosophers  for  this  matter.    For 
Se  they 'could  not  observe  the  goodness  of  acUonsJo 
consist  in  this,  that  it  was  in  order  to  peace,  and  the  evil 
ZSs,  that  it  related  to  discord,  they  built  a  moral  philos- 
X  wholly  estranged  from  the  moral  law,  and  uncon- 
s£  to  itsif.    For  they  would  have  the  nature  of  virtues 
se^ed  in  a  certain  kind  of  mediocrity  between  two  ex- 
emes,  and  the  vices  in  the  extremes  themselves;  winch 
s  aTparently  false.    For  to  dare  is  commended,  and.  un- 
der tSe  name  of  fortitude  is  taken  for  a  virtue,  although 
t    e  an  ^xtreme.lf  the  cause  be  appn^ved    ^so  t  ^  quan^ 
litv  of  a  thing  given,  whether  it  be  great  or  little  or  De- 
twLnboh.  makes  n^t  liberality,  but  the  cause  of  giving 
ir    Neither  is  it  injustice,  if  I  give  any  man  more  of 
what  i    mLe  own  than  I  owe  him.    The  laws  of  nature, 
rerefore   are  the  sum  of  moral  philosophy ;  whereof  I 
have  tT;  delivered  such  precepts  in  this  place,  as  apper- 
Snto  the  preservation  of  ou^elves  against  those  danger 

:?^:s;:r.rthrs^oS£^ 

overcome ;  because  it  is  a  means  tending  to  the  preserva 
tion  of  him  that  resists.  ,  . 

33.  But  those  which  we  call  the  laws  of  "at'^e  j^n^ 
thev  are  nothing  else  but  certain  conclusions,  understood 
bv 'reason,  of  things  to  be  done  and  omitted,  but  a  law, 


ii 


312 


LEVIATHAN 


to  speak  properly  and  accurately,  is  the  speech  of  him 
who  by  right  commands  somewhat  to  others  to  be  done 
or  omitted),  are  not  in  propriety  of  speech  laws,  as  they 
proceed  from  nature.  Yet.  asJ:hev  are  delivered  by  God 
i^  h(;ilv  Scriptures,  as  we  shall  see  in  the  chapter  follow- 
ing, tli?y  arr  rnnif  r'""F'i''"H'  fiilM  ^^'  the  name  of  laws. 


For  the  sacred  Scripture  is  the  speech  of  God  command- 
ing  over  all  things  by  greatest  right. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

OF  PERSONS,  AUTHORS,  AND  THINGS  PERSONATED. 

A  persq;*.  is  he,  whose  words  or  actions  are  considered, 
elih^his  own,  or  as  representing  the  words  or  actw>is 
of  another  man,  or  of  any  other  thing,  to  whom  they 
are  attributed,  zvhether  tridy  or  by  fiction. 

When  they  are  considered  as  his  own,  then  is  he  called 
a  natmUerm^--  and  when  they  are  considered  as  repre- 
seirting  the  ^rds  and  actions  of  another,  then  is  he  a 

fciirned  or  artificidjierson^  ,  .     ^     ,  „ 

^-^TwordlSiTiOTirilto :  instead  whereof  the  Greeks 
have   ^/."^«":ov,   which  signifies  the  face,  as  personam 
Latin  signifies  the  disguise,  or  outward  appearance  of  a 
man,  counterfeited  on  the  stage ;  and  sometimes  more  par- 
ticularly that  part  of  it,  which  disguiseth  the  face,  as  a 
mask  or  vizard :  and  from  the  stage,  hath  been  translated 
to  any  representer  of  speech  and  action,  as  well  in  tribu- 
nals, as  theatres.    So  that  a  person,  is  the  same  that  an 
actor  is,  both  on  the  stage  and  in  common  conversation; 
iind  to  personate,  is  to  act,  or  represent  himself,  or  an- 
other ;  and  he  that  acteth  another,  is  said  to  bear  his 
person,  or  act  in  his  name ;  in  which  sense  Cicero  useth 
it  where  he  says,  Unus  sustineo  tres  personas;  met,  ad- 
versarii,  et  judicis:  I  bear  three  persons-  my  own,  my 
adversary's,  and  the  judge's;  and  is  called  in  divers  oc- 
casions, diversly;  as  a  representer,  or  representattve   a 
lieutenant,  a  vicar,  an  attorney,  a  deputy,  a  procurator. 

an  actor,  and  the  like.  .        j  „„ 

Of  persons  artificial,  some  have  their  words  and  ac- 
tions owned  by  those  whom  they  represent  And  tha 
the  person  is  the  actor;  and  he  that  owneth  his  words 


314 


LEVIATHAN 


and  actions,  is  the  author  :  in  which  case  the  actor  acteth 
by  authority.  For  that  which  in  speaking  of  goods  and 
possessions,  is  called  an  owner,  and  in  Latin  dominus,  in 
Greek  xopto^  speaking  of  actions,  is  called  author.  And 
as  the  right  of  possession,  is  called  dominion;  so  the 
right  of  doing  any  action,  is  called  authority.  So  that 
by  authority,  is  always  understood  a  right  of  doing  any 
act ;  and  done  by  authority,  done  by  commission,  or  li- 
cence from  him  whose  right  it  is. 

From  hence  it  followeth,  that  when  the  actor  maketh 
a  covenant  by  authority,  he  bindeth  thereby  the  author, 
no  less  than  if  he  had  made  it  himself;  and  no  less  sub- 
jecteth  him  to  all  the  consequences  of  the  same.  And 
therefore  all  that  hath  been  said  formerly,  (chap,  xiv)  of 
the  nature  of  covenants  between  man  and  man  in  their 
natural  capacity,  is  true  also  when  they  are  made  by 
their  actors,  representers,  or  procurators,  that  have  author- 
ity from  them,  so  far  forth  as  is  in  their  commission, 
but  no  further. 

And  therefore  he  that  maketh  a  covenant  with  the 
actor,  or  representer,  not  knowing  the  authority  he  hath, 
doth  it  at  his  own  peril.  For  no  man  is  obliged  by  a 
covenant,  whereof  he  is  not  author;  nor  conseiquently  by 
a  covenant  made  against,  or  beside  the  authority  he  gave. 

When  the  actor  doth  anything  against  the  law  of  na- 
ture by  command  of  the  author,  if  he  be  obliged  by  for- 
mer covenant  to  obey  him,  not  he,  but  the  author  break- 
eth  the  law  of  nature;  for  though  the  action  be  against 
the  law  of  natur-e;  yet  it  is  not  his:  but  contrarily,  to 
refuse  to  do  it,  is  against  the  law  of  nature,  that  forbid- 
deth  breach  of  covenant. 

And  he  that  maketh  a  covenant  with  the  author,  by 
mediation  of  the  actor,  not  knowing  what  authority  he 
hath,  but  only  takes  his  word ;  in  case  such  authority  be 


OF  PERSONS.  AUTHORS,  ETC. 


3«S 


not  made  manifest  unto  him  upon  demand,  is  no  longer 
obliged:  for  the  covenant  made  with  the  author,  is  not 
valid,  without  his  counter- assurance.  But  if  he  that  so 
covenanteth.  knew  beforehand  he  was  to  expect  no  other 
assurance,  than  the  actor's  word;  then  is  the  covenant 
valid;  because  the  actor  in  this  case  maketh  himself  the 
author.  And  therefore,  as  when  the  authority  is  evident, 
the  covenant  obligeth  the  author,  not  the  actor;  so  when  . 
the  authority  is  feigned,  it  obligeth  the  actor  only ;  there 
being  no  author  but  himself. 

There  are  few  things,  that  are  incapable  of  being  re- 
presented by  fiction.  Inanimate  things,  as  a  church,  an 
hospital,  a  bridge,  may  be  personated  by  a  rector,  master, 
or  overseer.  But  things  inanimate,  cannot  be  authors, 
nor  therefore  give  authority  to  their  actors :  yet  the  actors 
may  have  authority  to  procure  their  maintenance  given 
them  by  those  that  are  owners,  or  governors  of  those 
things.  And  therefore,  such  things  cannot  be  personated, 
before  there  be  some  state  of  civil  government. 

Likewise  children,  fools,  and  madmen  that  have  no 
use  of  reason,  may  be  personated  by  guardians,  or  cu- 
rators;  but  can  be  no  authors,  during  that  time  of  any 
action  done  by  them,  longer  than,  when  they  shall  re- 
cover  the  use  of  reason,  they  shall  judge  the  same  reas- 
onable. Yet  during  the  folly,  he  that  hath  right  of  govern- 
ing  them,  may  give  authority  to  the  guardian.  But  this 
again  has  no  place  but  in  a  state  civil,  because  before 
such  estate,  there  is  no  dominion  of  persons. 

An  idol,  or  mere  figment  of  the  brain,  may  be  per- 
sonated ;  as  were  the  gods  of  the  heathen :  which  by  such 
officers  as  the  state  appointed,  were  personated,  and  held 
possessions,  and  other  goods,  and  rights,  which  men  from 
time  to  time  dedicated,  and  consecrated  unto  them.  But 
idols  cannot  be  authors :  for  an  idol  is  nothine.    The  au- 


!! 


3i6 


LEVIATHAN 


OF  PERSONS.  AUTHORS,  ETC. 


317 


thority  proceeded  from  the  state:  and  therefore  before 
introduction  of  civil  government,  the  gods  of  the  heathen 
could  not  be  personated. 

The  true  God  may  be  personated.  As  he  was ;  first, 
by  Moses;  who  governed  the  Israelites,  that  were  not 
his,  but  God's  people,  not  in  his  own  name,  y/iih  hoc 
dicit  Moses;  but  in  God's  name,  with  hoc  dicit  Dominus. 
Secondly,  by  the  Son  of  man,  his  own  Son,  our  blessed 
Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  that  came  to  reduce  the  Jews,  and 
induce  all  nations  into  the  kingdom  of  his  father;  not 
as  of  himself,  but  as  sent  from  his  father.  And  thirdly, 
by  the  Holy  Ghost,  or  Comforter,  speaking,  and  working 
in  the  Apostles:  which  Holy  Ghost,  was  a  Comforter 
that  came  not  of  himself;  but  was  sent,  and  proceeded 
from  them  both. 

A  multitude  of  men,  are  made  one  person,  when  they 
are  by  one  man,  or  one  person,  represented;  so  that  it 
be  done  with  the  consent  of  every  one  of  that  multitude 
in  particular.  For  it  is  the  unity  of  the  representer,  not 
the  unity  of  the  represented,  that  maketh  the  person  one. 
And  it  is  the  representer  that  beareth  the  person,  and 
but  one  person:  and  unity,  cannot  otherwise  be  under- 
stood in  multitude. 

And  because  the  multitude  naturally  is  not  one,  but 
many;  they  cannot  be  understood  for  one;  but  many  au- 
thors, of  every  thing  their  representative  saith,  or  doth 
in  their  name;  every  man  giving  their  common  repre- 
senter, authority  from  himself  in  particular ;  and  owning 
kll  the  actions  tbfiL-iepresenter  doth,  in  case  they  give 
him  authority  without  stint:  otherwise,  when  they  limit 
him  in  what,  and  how  far  he  shall  represent  them,  none 
of  them  owneth  more  than  they  gave  him  commission 

to  act. 

And  if  the  representalJ:^  consist  of  many  men,  the 


^  voice  of  the  greaterjiumber^ust  b^  cogsiderfid^as^tbo- 
voice  of  them  dl.  For  if  the  lesser  number  pronounce, 
for  example,  in  the  affirmative,  and  the  greater  m  the 
negative,  there  will  be  negatives  more  than  enough  to 
destroy  the  affirmatives ;  and  thereby  the  excess  of  neg- 
atives, standing  uncontradicted,  are  the  only  voice  the 

representative  hath. 

And  a  representative  of  even  number,  especially  when 
the   number   is   not   great,    whereby    the    contradictory 
voices  are  oftentimes  equal,  is  therefore  oftentimes  mute, 
and  incapable  of  action.     Yet  in  some  cases  contradic- 
torv  voices  equal  in  number,  may  determine  a  question ; 
as  'in  condemning,  or  absolving,  equality  of  votes,  even 
in  that  thev  condemn  not,  do  absolve ;  but  not  on  the 
contrarv  condemn ,  in  that  they  absolve  not.    For  when 
a  cause  is  heard;  not  to  condemn,  is  to  absolve:  but  on 
the  contrary,  to  say  that  not  absolving,  is  condemning, 
is  not  true.    The  like  it  is  in  a  deliberation  of  executing 
presently,  or  deferring  till  another  time:  for  when  the 
voices  are  equal,  the  not  decreeing  execution,  is  a  decree 

of  dilation. 

Or  if  the  number  be  odd,  as  three,  or  more,  men  or 
assemblies;  whereof  every  one  has  by  a  negative  voice, ^^^  f^^U . 
authority  to  take  away  the  effect  of  all  the  affirmative| 
voices  of  the  rest,  this  number  is  no  representative;  be- 
cause  by  the  diversity  of  opinions,  and  interests  of  men, 
it  becomes  oftentimes,  and  in  cases  of  the  greatest  conse- 
quence, a  mute  person,  and  unapt,  as  for  many  thmgs 
else,  so  for  the  government  of  a  multitude,  especially 

in  time  of  war.  ^    .    •      1     e,^ 

Of  authors  there  be  two  sorts.  The  first  simply  so 
called ;  which  I  have  before  defined  to  be  him  that  own- 
eth the  action  of  another  simply.  The  second  is  he,  that 
owneth  an  action,  or  covenant  of  another  conditionally; 


^^f 


318 


LEVIATHAN 


that  is  to  say,  he  undertaketh  to  do  it,  if  the  other  doth  it 
not,  at,  or  before  a  certain  time.  And  these  authors  con- 
ditional, are  generally  sailed  sureties,  in  Latin,  Mejus- 
sores,  and  sponsores;  and  particularly  for  debt,  praedes; 
and  for  appearance  before  a  judge,  or  magistrate,  vades. 


PART  II. 

OF  COMMONWEALTH. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

OF  THE  CAUSES,  GENERATION,  AND  DEFINITION  OF  A 

COMMONWEALTH. 

The  final  cause,  end,  or  design  of  men,  who  naturally 
love  liberty,  and  dominion  over  others,  in  the  introduction 
of  that  restraint  upon  themselves,  in  which  we  see  them 
live  in  commonwealths,  is  the  foresight  of  their  own  pres- 
ervation, and  of  a  more  contented  life  thereby;  that  is 
to  say  of  getting  themselves  out  from  that  miserable 
condition  of  war,  which  is  necessarily  consequent,  as  hath 
been  shown  in  chapter  xiii,  to  the  natural  passions  of 
men  when  there  is  no  visible  power  to  keep  them  m  awe, 
and  tie  them  by  fear  of  punishment  to  the  performance 
of  their  covenants,  and  observation  of  those  laws  of  nature 
set  down  in  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  chapters. 

For  the  laws  of  nature,  as  justice,  equity,  tnodesty, 
mercy,  and,  In  sum,  'dbiHg  to  others,  as  we  would  be 
done  to.  of  themselves,  without  the  terror  of  some_Ba3g£r, 
to  cause  them  to  be  observed,  are_contrary  to  ournatur^ 
passions,  that  carry  us  to  partiality,  pride,  revenge,  and 
ihTuire:     And  covenants,  without  the  sword,  are  but  ^.^ 
words,  and  of  no  strength  to  secure  a  man  at  all.    There- 
fore notwithstanding  the  laws  of  nature,  which  every  one 
hath  then  kept,  when  he  has  the  will  to  keep  them,  when 
he  can  do  it  safely,  if  there  be  no  power  erected,  or  not 
great  enough  for  our  security;  every  man  will,  and  may 
lawfully  rely  on  his  own  strength  and  art.  for  caution 


11' 


320 


LEVIATHAN 


\  • 


against  all  other  men.  And  in  all  places,  where  men  have 
lived  by  small  families,  to  rob  and  spoil  one  another, 
has  been  a  trade,  and  so  far  from  being  reputed  against 
the  law  of  nature,  that  the  greater  spoils  they  gained, 
the  greater  was  their  honour ;  and  men  observed  no  other 
laws  therein,  but  the  laws  of  honour ;  that  is,  to  abstain 
from  crueltv,  leaving  to  men  their  lives,  and  instruments 
of  husbandr}\  And  as  small  families  did  then ;  so  now  do 
cities  and  kingdoms  which  are  but  greater  families,  for 
their  own  security,  enlarge  their  dominions,  upon  all 
pretences  of  danger,  and  fear  of  invasion,  or  assistance 
that  may  be  given  to  invaders,  and  endeavour  as  much 
as  they  can,  to  subdue,  or  weaken  their  neighbours,  by 
open  force,  and  secret  arts,  for  want  of  other  caution, 
justly ;  and  are  remembered  for  it  in  after  ages  with  hon- 
our. 

Nor  is  it  the  joining  together  of  a  small  number  of 
men,  that  gives  them  this  security;  because  in  small 
numbers,  small  additions  on  the  one  side  or  the  other, 
make  the  advantage  of  strength  so  great,  as  is  sufficient 
to  carry  the  victory ;  and  therefore  gives  encouragement 
to  an  invasion.  The  multitude  sufficient  to  confide  in  for 
our  security,  is  not  determined  by  any  certain  number, 
but  by  comparison  with  the  enemy  we  fear;  and  is  then 
sufficient,  when  the  odds  of  the  enemy  is  not  of  fo  visible 
and  conspicuous  moment,  to  determine  the  event  of  war, 
as  to  move  him  to  attempt. 

And  be  there  never  so  great  a  multitude;  yet  if 
their  actions  be  directed  according  to  their  particular 
judgments,  and  particular  appetites,  they  can  expect  there- 
by no  defence,  nor  protection,  neither  against  a  common 
enemy,  nor  against  the  injuries  of  one  another.  For  be- 
ing distracted  in  opinions  concerning  the  best  use  and 
application  of  their  strength,  they  do  not  help  but  hinder 


CAUSES,  ETC.  OF  A  COMMONWEALTH 


321 


onnther-  and  reduce  their  strength  by  mutual  oppo-    ] 
one  another,  ana  rcuuv.  ^«o;iv  not  only  sub- 

sition  to  nothing:  thereby  they  are  eas.^y.no^^^^^ 

dued  by.  very  few  that  agree  to^^^^^^^^^^^^  ^^^^^^ 

is  no  common  enemy,  they  make  war    p  ^  , 

for  their  particular  interests.    F°r>we^  could      PP^^  ^^ 

r^  "tSlrel  Ta^sTnX    wHho^t  a  common 
^'XX^  all  in  a^e;  we  rnigh^^^^^^^^^ 

In  .anWind  to  do  ^-^^'^^Z^'l^^^^^^ 
be,  nor  need  to  be  any  civii^  subjection, 

at  all;  because  there  -^f^^'^Xuy,  Ich  men  desire 
Nor  is  it  enough  for  the  s«^«"^y'  governed, 

should  last  all  the  time  ^^J*^^;^^'  j/'.^^^^^  as  in 

and  directed  by  one  Judgment,  for  aim  ^  ^.^_ 

one  battle,  or  one  war.    For  *o"g»^^  J    ^      ;      ene- 
torv  by  their  unanimous  endeavour  agam^  a  *o     f 

^y,  yet  afterwards,  -^^^J^f  ,*^^^^^^^^  is  by 

enemy,  or  he  that  by  one  parMs  held  l         ^^^^^        ^^^ 

^rr^f  r  rrertle^  and  fall  again  into  , 
a  war  amongst  themselves.  

by  Aristotle  ""-X^Xln'^heir  particular  judg- 
vet  have  no  other  direction,  f  ^ijem  can 

;nents  and  appetites; nor  speech,  v^heeby  one  ^^^ 

signify  to  another    -hat J  ^^^^^^^^^^  ^P^^*^         ^^,,^3 
Sro^r-wt-^trcannotdothesame.    To 

which  I  answer,  ,„„Hnuallv  in  competition  for 


) 


a 


, 


i 


322 


LEVIATHAN 


Secondly,  that  amongst  these  creatures,  the  common 
good  differeth  not  from  the  private ;  and  being  by  nature 
inclined  to  their  private,  they  procure  thereby  the  com- 
mon benefit.  But  man,  whose  joy  consisteth  in  compar- 
ing himself  with  other  men,  can  relish  nothing  but  what  is 
eminent. 

Thirdly,  that  these  creatures,  having  not,  as  man,  the 
use  of  reason,  do  not  see,  nor  think  they  see  any  fault, 
in  the  administration  of  their  common  business ;  whereas 
amongst  men,  there  are  very  many,  that  think  them- 
selves wiser,  and  abler  to  govern  the  public,  better  than 
the  rest;  and  these  strive  to  reform  and  innovate,  one 
this  way,  another  that  way ;  and  thereby  bring  it  into  dis- 
traction and  civil  war. 

Fourthly,  that  these  creatures,  though  they  have  some 
use  of  voice,  in  making  known  to  one  another  their 
desires,  and  other  affections;  yet  they  want  that  art  of 
words,  by  which  some  men  can  represent  to  others,  that 
which  is  good,  in  the  likeness  of  evil;  and  evil,  in  the 
likeness  of  good ;  and  augment,  or  diminish  the  apparent 
greatness  of  good  and  evil ;  discontenting  men,  and  troub- 
ling their  peace  at  their  pleasure. 

Fifthly,  irrational  creatures  cannot  distinguish  be- 
tween injury^  and  damage;  and  therefore  as  long  as  they 
be  at  ease,  they  are  not  offended  with  their  fellows: 
whereas  man  is  then  most  troublesome, 'when  he  is  most 
at  ease:  for  then  it  is  that  he  loves  to  shew  his  wisdom, 
and  control  the  actions  of  them  that  govern  the  common- 
wealth. 

'  Lastly,  the  agreement  of  these  creatures  is  natural; 
that  of  men,  is  by  covenant  only,  which  is  artificial :  and 
therefore  it  is  no  wonder  if  there  be  somewhat  else  re- 
i  quired,  besides  covenant,  to  make  their  agreement  con- 
I  stant  and  lasting ;  which  is  a  common  power,  to  keep  them 


CAUSES,  ETC.  OF  A  COMMONWEALTH  323 

in  awe  and  to  direct  their  actions  to  the  common  benefit. 

The  only  .my  --  ---^  --^^  ^  ^Q"^"^"  P^^"^'  ^'  "^^^ 
be  aWTlAsHalH^Sn^  invasion  of  foreigners, 
and  the  injuries  of  one  another,  and  thereby  to  secure  them 
tfsuch  sirt,  as  that  by  their  own  industry  and  by  the 
fru  ts  of  the  earth,  they  may  nourish  themselves  and  Irve 
contentedly;  jg,  to  conf^eLalUhej,  power  ^^4  strcn^^ 
tmnnjirininn   -  "P^n  ^ne  assembly  of  men,  that  may 

will  •  which  is  as  much  as  to  say,  to  appomt  one  man,  or 
Issemblv  of  men,  to  bear  their  person;  and  every  one  to 
own  and  acknowledge  himself  to  be  author  of  whatsoever 
he  that  so  beareth  their  person,  shall  act,  or  cause  to  be 
acted   in  those  thfugs  which  concern  the  common  peace 
and  ;afety;^and  therein  to  submit  ^^^  ,-'fj;^^^^ ^^ 
to  his  will,  and  their  judgments,  to  his  judgment.    Ihis 
\  s  Sre  than  consent,  or  concord;  it  is  a  real  unity  o   s 
them  all,  in  one  and  the  same  person,  made  by  covenant 
'  of  every  man  with  every  man,  in  such  manner,  as  if  every 
man  should  say  to  every  man,  /  authorise  and  ^e  up 
my  right  of  governing  myself,  to  this  man,  or  to  this  as- 
4f   sembly  of  men,  on  this  condition,  that  thou  give  up  thy 
r     TgHt  to  him,  and  authorise  all  his  actions  in  hke  manner^ 
This  done,  the  multitude  so  united  in  one  person  is  called 
rcoMMO^wEALTH,  in  Latin  civiTAS.    TOs  IS  the  gener 
'  ation  of  that  ^reat  pviATHAjj,  or  rather    to  speak  "^^^^ 
Ireverently,  of  thztlnortal  g6d.  to  which  we  owe  under 
\ZZmlrtal  God,  our  peace  and  defence.    For  by  this 
Authority,  given  him  by  every  particular  man  in  the  com- 
monwealth he  hath  the  use  of  so  much  power  and  strength 
Conferred  on  him,  that  by  terror  thereof,pie  is  enabled  to 
perform  the  wills  of  them  all,  to  peace  a?  home,  and  mu- 
tual  aid  against  their  enemies  abroad.    ^2^-  J^^^^^^ 
sisteth  the  essence  of  the  commonwealthr[which,  to  de 


\  \ 


! 


¥ 


-«!!' 


\*»'*'-  it 


324 


LEVIATHAN 


^o 


^ 


( 


i 


fine  it,  is  on^  person,  of  whose  acts  a  great  mulktude,  by 
"mutual  covenants  one  ivith  another,  have  made  them- 
selves  every  one  the  author,  to  the  end  he  may  use  the 
strength  and  means  of  them  all,  as  he  shall  think  exped- 
ient, for  their  peace  and  common  defence. 
\  And  he  that  carrieth  this  person,  is  called  sovereign, 
and  said  to  have  sovereign  power;  and  every  ^Tl^tesides, 

his   SUDJECT. 

le  attaining  to  this  sovereign  power,  ig  by  twn  yrays^^ 
One,  by  natural  force ;  as  when  a  man  maketh  his  child- 
ren^  to  submit  themselves,  and  their  children  to  his  gov- 
ernment, as  being  able  to  destroy  them  if  they  refuse; 
or  by  war  subdueth  his  enemies  to  his  will,  giving  them 
their  lives  on  that  condition.     The  other,  is  when  men 
agree  amongst  themselves,  to  submit  to  some  mag,  or 
assembly  ot  men,  voluntarily,  on  confidence  to  be  protected 
by  him.  against  all  others.     This  latter,  may  be  called  a    • 
political  commonwealth,  or  commonwealth  by  institution :    y 
and  the  former,  a  commonwealth  by  acquisition.     And  ^ 
first,  I  shall  speak  of  a  commonwealth  by  institution. 


.1 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

OF  THE  RIGHTS  or  SOVEREIGNS  BY  INSTITUTION.  ' 

A  commonwealth  is  said  to  be  instiXuied,  when  a  mu/i 
^  J  o"  men  do  agree,  and  covenant,  every  one.J^^^^ 
Irv  one  that  to  whatsoever  man,  or  assembly  of  men,  shall 
Te  ^iveVbv  t^^  major  part,  the  right  to  present  the  person 
o  Sem  al     hatis  to  say,  to  be  their  representat^ve ;  every 

all  fhe  nVW^  and  faculties  of  him,  or  them,  on  whom 
tti^'^wer  is  conferred  by  the  consent  of  the  peo- 

'''  FSr  because  they  covenant,  it  is  to  be  understood. 
thefSe  nrobhged  by  former  covenant  to  anyth-g  - 
;'Snant  hereunto.    And  -sequ^nt^  *^^^^^^^^^^ 

cLot  lawfully  make  a  new  ^°-^"^"^'  ^f wha  s^ 
selves,  to  be  obedient  to  any  ^t''^;;  "J/,  ^/f  ^h^y  L 
ever,  without  his  permission.    And  thereiore   i    y 


'llin 


W- 


y^'-- 


l! 


326 


LEVIATHAN 


man  dissenting,  all  the  rest  should  break  their  covenant 
made  to  that  man,  which  is  injustice :  and  they  have  also 
every  man  given  the  sovereignty  to  him  that  beareth  their 
person ;  and  therefore  if  they  depose  him,  they  take  from 
him  that  which  is  his  own,  and  so  again  it  is  injustice. 
Besides,  if  he  that  attempteth  to  depose  his  sovereign,  be 
killed,  or  punished  by  him  for  such  attempt,  he  is  author 
of  his  own  punishment,  as  being  by  the  institution,  author 
of  all  his  sovereign  shall  do:  and  because  it  is  injustice 
for  a  man  to  do  anything,  for  which  he  may  be  punished 
by  his  own  authority,  he  is  also  upon  that  title,  unjust. 
And  whereas  some  men  have  pretended  for  their  dispbed- 
jence  to  their  sovereijs:n,  a  new  covenant^jrij 
men,  but  with  God;  this  also  islunjustrfor  there  isjio 
covenant  with  uod,  but  by  mediation  of  somebody  that 
representeth  God's  person;  which  none  doth  but  God's 
lieutenant,  who  hath  the  sovereignty  under  God.  But 
this  pretence  of  covenant  with  God,  is  so  evident  a  lie, 
even  in  the  pretenders'  own  consciences,  that  it  is  not 
only  an  act  of  an  unjust,  but  also  of  a  vile  and  unmanly 
disposition.* 


^Compare  Philosophical  Rudiments,  (M.  II,  106).  "We 
have  seen  how  subjects,  nature  dictating,  have  obliged  themselves 
by  mutual  compacts  to  obey  the  supreme  power.  We  will  see 
now  by  what  means  it  comes  to  pass,  that  they  are  released 
from  these  bonds  of  obedience.  And  first  of  all,  this  happens 
by  rejection,  namely,  if  a  man  cast  off  or  forsake,  but  convev 
not  the  right  of  his  command  on  some  other.  For  what  is  thus 
rejected,  is  openly  exposed  to  all  alike,  catch  who  catch  can; 
whence  again,  by  the  right  of  nature,  every  subject  may  heed 
the  preservation  of  himself  according  to  his  own  judgment.  In 
the  second  place,  if  the  kingdom  fall  into  the  power  of  the  enemy, 
so  as  there  can  no  more  opposition  be  made  against  them,  we 
must  understand  that  he  who  before  had  the  supreme  authority, 
hath  now  lost  it:  for  when  the  subjects  have  done  their  full  en- 
deavour to  prevent  their  falling  into  the  enemy's  hands,  they  have 
fulfilled  those  contracts  of  obedience  which  they  made  each  with 
other;  and  what,  being  conquered,  they  promise  afterwards  to 


RIGHTS  OF  SOVEREIGNS 


327 


Secondly,  because  the  right  of  beanng  the  per«>n  of 
thenTIiUs  given  to  him  they  make  ^^^'f; J^^^^ 
enant  only  of  one  to  another,  and  not  of  h.m  to  any^f 
them  •  there  can  happen  no  breach  of  covenant  on  *e 
parT;f  the  sovereign;  and  consequently  n-eofhjs^ 
tects   W  ^^wpretence  of  forfeiture,  c^Wl^^irom 

nJSSTwith  his  subjects  beforehand  .s  -m  «t ;  b^ 
cause  either  he  must  make  it  with  the  whole  multitude,  as 
one  party  to  the  covenant;  or  he  must  make  a  several 
covenant  with  every  man.    With_the  whole,  as  one  party. 


avoid  death,  they  must  with  no  less  endeavour  labour.^t»^per- 

form.  Thirdly  ma  "°f  j-^l^y'  ^-*°J,^/trSn^^^  are  dis- 
cannot  fail),  "^  there  be  "?J""5^^°^'  *„a„  is  supposed  to  be 
charged  from  the.r  obligations,  for  "»  "'^n  .^^l„^  j^pos- 
tied  he  knows  not  to  whom ,  for  >"  !»<="^»  ^u  sub  ects 

sible  to  perform  aught.    And J.y  Aese    hree     ^y^, 
are  restored  from  their  "V';^"b,|c«o  ^  ^^^ 

men  have  to  all  things ,  to  *","-'"  .  j,    .  j  ^^^^  liberty 

ural  state  hath  the  same  P'^?P°"'f5,  *JL  ,easo„    or  a  beast  to  a 

to  subjection),  which  P«s='°?'^='**°,"fX' be  freed  from  his 
man.    Furthermore   each  subject  may  lawtmiyM  ^^^^ 

subjection  by  the  will  of  l"«.whohath  the  supremely         , 

ly,  if  he  change  his  soil;  w>"?h  may  be  done  two  w ^^^^  ^^^^^^_ 

permission,  as  he  who  gets  ''"nse  to  dwei^i  ^^  .^  ^^^^ 

or  command,  as  he  who  is  >»"'*^°-  ?  wa"  se  he  is  tied  to 
from  the  laws  of  his    ormer  country     bec^ause  ^^ 

observe  those  o'  the  latter.        rv  is  understood  to  last 

"The  obligation  of  subjects  to  the  sovereign,  is  u  ^.^^  ^^  ._^ 

as  long,  and  "O  •°"8''^  *  ,L  rieht  men  hrve  by  nature  to  pro- 
able  to  protect  them.  For  the  "ght  men  nave  y  ^^ 
tect  themselves    when  none  else  can  pro  ect  than,  ^^^^  J  ^^^ 

covenant  be  relinquished.      1  he  sovereigmy 

commonwealth;  which  o""  departed    rom  the  body.       ^^  ^^ 

bers  do  no  more  ««'V;  th'«i,^,°»^°e^eJ^^^^^^  seeth  it.  either  in 
dience  is  Protection  -wh-ch  wheresoever  ^.^  obedierice  to 

his  own.  or  in  another  s  swora  nature    m  sovereignty, 

it,  and  his  *?<l*='^°«Lm  S  rake  it,  be  immoml;  yet  is  it 
r„  [t';%rnrre°^'oVon.r-^^^^^^^^^^ 

K  ^r^ r :;rrytsS"SraS  irelirX rural  mortality, 
by  intestine  discord." 


il 


LEVIATHAN 


it  is  impossible ;  because  as  yet  they  are  not  one  person : 
and  if  he  make  so  many  several  covenants  as  there  be 
men,  those  covenants  after  he  hath  the  sovereignty  are 
void;  because  what  act  soever  can  be  pretended  by  any 
one  of  them  for  breach  thereof,  is  the  act  both  of  him- 
self, and  of  all  the  rest,  because  done  in  the  person,  and 
by  the  right  of  every  one  of  them  in  particular.  Be- 
sides, if  any  one,  or  more  of  them,  pretend  a  breach  of 
the  covenant  made  by  the  sovereign  at  his  institution ;  and 
others,  or  one  other  of  his  subjects,  or  'himself  alone, 
pretend  there  was  no  such  breach,  there  is  in  this  case, 
no  judge  to  decide  the  controversy;  it  returns  therefore 
to  the  sword  again;  and  every  man  recovereth  the  right 
of  protecting  himself  by  his  own  strength,  contrary  to 
the  design  they  had  in  the  institution.  It  is  therefore 
in  vain  to  grant  sovereignty  by  way  of  precedent  covenant. 
The  opinion  that  any  monarch  receiveth  his  power  by 
covenant,  that  is  to  say,  on  condition,  proceedeth  from 
want  of  understanding  this  easy  truth,  that  covenants 
being  but  words  and  breath,  have  no  force  to  oblige,_con- 
tain,  constrain,  or  protect  any  man,  but  what  it  has  from 
''the  public  sword;  that  is,  from  the  untied  hands  of  that 
man,  or  assembly  of  men  that  hath  the  sovereignty,  and 
whose  actions  are  avouched  by  them  all,  and  performed 
by  the  strength  of  them  all,  in  him  united.  But  when  an 
assembly  of  men  is  made  sovereign ;  then  no  man  im- 
agineth  any  such  covenant  to  have  passed  in  the  institu- 
tion; for  no  man  is  so  dull  as  to  say,  for  example,  the 
people  of  Rome  made  a  covenant  with  the  Romans,  to  hold 
the  sovereignty  on  such  or  such  conditions;  which  not 
performed,  the  Romans  might  lawfully  depose  the  Roman 
people.  That  men  see  not  the  reason  to  be  alike  in  a 
monarchy,  and  in  a  popular  government,  proceedeth  from 
the  ambition  of  some,  that  are  kinder  to  the  government 


RIGHTS  OF  SOVEREIGNS 


3>9 


of  an  assembly,  whereof  they  may  hope  to  participate, 
than  of  monarchy,  which  they  despair  to  enjoy. 


^Compare   Philosophical   ^^''^''^^X^J^y  ^r"e  of  the 

much  as  the  supreme  =.°"'"'='"f:  '1 '""'sub  ect  mutually  makes 
compacts  which  each  smgecmzen  or  sudj        ^^^.^  ^^^^^ 

with  the  other ;  but  all  =°°  ^^"'' *' * "hev  l°se  it  again  and  are 
the  contractors,  so  by  their  .^o"" "'  "i^\ u^t  by  the  consent  of 
broken:  perhaps  ^o««,  "-Y. j"*"reme  au*ority  may  be  wholly 
all  the  sub  ects  together  the  5'\?'^f.'"^„e  true  I  cannot  discern 
taken  away.    Which  mference        ^  «^^^',t  ^Ve  supreme  com- 

what  danger  w^V^  '^'-^f.^^'^^ed  that  each  one  hath  obheed 
manders.  For  smce  it  s  s"PP°^«i  \  i,^„,  ^hall  refuse,  what- 
himself  to  each  other ;  if  any  one  ot  t"  notwithstanding, 

soever  the  rest  shall  agree  to  do,  he  is  dou  ^^^.^^ 

Neither  can  any.  man  without  ^"'•yj  t°„^,'  j  „ot  to  do.  But  it 
contract  made  ^l'^  me  he  hath  obl^ed  hirn     ^^^^  ^^^ 

is  not  to  be  imagined  that  «ver  it  wu   n  l-V     ■        y^,^  against  the 

together,  not  so  '""=*'„^/ °f  the^e  ^s  „o  fear  for  rulers  in  chief 
supreme  power.    Wherefore  there  is  n  authority.    If, 

that  by  any  right  they  <^«n  ,^«  J*^P°  '*the°r  ri#t  depended  only 
notwithstanding,  it  were  B-^^^t^fn^'Veswith  his  fellow-citizen, 
on  that  contract  which  each  man  '?^'^«^r;\  ^e  robbed  of  that 
it  might  very  easily  happen  that  they  might  p 

dominion  under  pretence  of  r  ght.  ^°J  ^  ••,  go^ting  togeth- 
either  by  the  command  o  tl?=  c'ty.  o^  |«<1'  ^„  ^  „  contained  in 
er,  most  men  thmk  that  the  conse";  ^  .  ^^  por  it  is 
the  votes  of  the  greater  part;  ^nich  in  truin  is  ^ 

not  from  nature  that  *e  consent  of  the  major  p  ^^^ 

received  for  the  consent  °j.f"'.  "!**^^Vis  theTonly  true,  when 
it  proceeds  from  ""V .'»'W"i,-^"„preme  powe?,  assembling 
that  man  or  court  which  .''.^^^"fof  their  number  allows 
his  subjects,  by  reason  of  the  ^['^'^^^^^"'for  those  who  elected 
those  that  are  elected  a  power  °'  =P^*^f  *-i„s  ;„  such  matters 
them;  and  will  have  t^e  major  part  o^vou^es  .  ^^  ^^^^^^^, 
as  are  by  him  propounded  Wje  d>sc"sseo,  ^         ^^^^ 

as  the  whole.  But  we  carnPV^.Z  fw  thev  should  dispute  his 
convened  his  subjects  with  •nt^"''°"„7t\ 'eSre^^^^^  declared  in 
right:  unless  weary  of  the  t>"rthen  of  his  charge  j^ 

pfain  terms  that  he   renounces   and  a W^^^  ^8^  ^^^ 

Now  because  most  ««"  J^IPf^^"  ign  ^^  ^  ^^^  j 

sent  of  the  major  part  of  citizens  ""'y'.""         ^nt  of  the  whole 
provided  they  be  of  their  opmion   for  the  cons  ^^^ 

Sty;  it  may  very  well  seem  to  them,  that  tnesp  ^.^embly 

may  by  right  b\»b^ogated   so  it  be  done  ,„  jme  g  ^^^  ^^^^^^  ^ 
of  citizens  by  the  vo  es  of  .t^*  8'/»ter  "umo  ^.^^,,^^ 

^rpX^l^ak^Titfri^h^  IVnTnot  on  ?hat  obligation 


330' 


LEVIATHAN 


RIGHTS  OF  SOVEREIGNS 


33« 


f! 


\ 

1 1 


Thirdly,  because  the  major  part  hath  by  consenting 
voices  declared  a  sovereign ;  he  that  dissented  must  now 
consent  with  the  rest;  that  is,  be  contented  to  avow  all 
the  actions  he  shall  do,  or  else  justly  be  destroyed  by  the 
rest.  For  if  he  voluntarily  entered  into  the  congregation 
of  them  that  were  assembled,  he  sufficiently  declared  there- 
by his  will,  and  therefore  tacitly  covenanted,  to  stand 
to  what  the  major  part  should  ordain:  and  therefore  if 
he  refuse  to  stand  thereto,  or  make  protestation  against 
any  of  their  decrees,  he  does  contrary  to  his  covenant, 
and  therefore  unjustly.  And  whether  he  be  of  the  con- 
gregation, or  not;  and  whether  his  consent  be  asked, 
or  not,  he  must  either  submit  to  their  decrees,  or  be 
left  in  the  condition  of  war  he  was  in  before;  where- 
in he  might  without  injustice  be  destroyed  by  any  man 
whatsoever. 

Fourthly,  because  every  subject  is  by  this  institution 

author  of  all  the  actions,  and  judgments  of  the  sovereign 

instituted ;  it  follows,  that  whatsoever  he  doth,  it  can  be 

\  no  injury  to  any  of  his  subjects ;  nor  ought  he  to  be  by 


only ;  there  is  another  tie  also  towards  him  who  commands.  For 
each  citizen  compacting  with  his  fellow,  says  thus:  /  convey 
my  right  on  this  party,  upon  condition  that  you  pass  yours  to 
the  same:  by  which  means,  that  right  which  every  man  had  be- 
fore to  use  his  faculties  to  his  own  advantage,  is  now  wholly 
translated  on  some  certain  man  or  council  for  the  common  ben- 
efit. Wherefore  what  by  the  mutual  contracts  each  one  hath 
made  with  the  other,  what  by  the  donation  of  right  which  every 
man  is  bound  to  ratify  to  him  that  commands,  the  government 
is  upheld  by  a  double  obligation  from  the  citizens;  first,  that 
which  is  due  to  their- fellow  citizens ;  next,  that  which  they 
owe  to  their  prince.  Wherefore  no  subjects,  how  many  soever 
they  be,  can  with  any  right  despoil  him  who  bears  the  chief  rule 
of  his  authority,  without  his  own  consent."  The  Molesworth 
edition  reads,  "even  without  his  own  consent."  This  makes 
the  final  sentence  of  the  extract  meaningless,  and  is  evidently 
the  result  of  a  mistranslation  of  the  words  of  the  De  Cive:  "Non 
ergo  cives,  quotcunque  fuerint,  sine  consensu  etiam  ipsius  im- 
perantis,  eum  spoliare  imperio  jure  possunt." 


any  of  them  accused  of  injustice.     For  he  that  doth  any- 
thing by  authority  from  another,  doth  therein  no  mjury 
to  him  by  whose  authority  he  acteth :  but  by  this  institu- 
tion of  a  commonwealth,  every  particular  nr^n  is  author 
of  all  the  sovereign  doth :  and  consequently/he  that  com- 
plaineth  of  injury  from  his  sovereign,  complaineth  of  that 
whereof  he  himself  is  authojjand  therefore  ought  not  to 
accuse  any  man  but  himself;  no  n6r  himself  of  mjury; 
because  to  do  injury  to  one's  self,  is  impossible.    It  is  true 
that  they  that  have  sovereign  power  may  commit  mi- 
quity ,  but  not  injustice,  or  injury  in  the  proper  significa- 
tion.' 

'Compare  Philosophical  Rudiments,  (M.  11,  lOi).  "Because 
♦      ♦     V     ♦      they  who  have  gotten  the  jM^rme-  command, 

are  by  no  compacts  obliged  to  any  man,  it  necessarily  follows 
that  tL^can  do  no  tn/ury  to  the  subjects.  For  injrury  *  *  *  * 
isnothlne  else  but  a  breach  of  contract ;  and  therefore  where 
no  coXct'  have  part,  there  can  be  no  injury.  Yet  the  people 
?he  nobles''  and  the  monarch  may  diverse  .ways  transgress  against 
the  other  laws  of  nature,  as  by  cruelty,  iniquity,  contumely,  and 
ItLr  like  vTces  which  come  not  under  this  strict  and  exact 
notL  of  tS  But  if  the  subject  yield  not  obedience,  to  the 
^unremrhe  will  in  propriety  of  speech  be  said  to  be  injurious, 
as^weTl  to  his    ellow^^^^  because  each  man  hath  compacted 

with  the  other  to  obey;  as  to  his  chief  ruler,  in  resuming  that 
^eht  which  he  hath  kiven  him,  without  his  consent.  And  m 
a  rfm™y  or  aristocracy,  if  anything  be  decreed  against  any 
hw^f  nature  the  city  itself,  that  is,  the  civil  person  sins  not, 
buT  those' s'ubjects  onl^  by  whose  votes  K„was  decreed;  f^^^^^^^^ 
is  a  consequence  of  the  natural  express  will,  not  of  the  PO»tica^ 
wi^thWi  artificial  For  if  it  were  otherwise,  they  would  be  guilty 
by  whom  [h^^^^^^^^^  absolutely  disliked     But  in  a  monarchy 

il  ^TZnnarch  make  any  decree  gainst  the  laws  of  nature,  he 
ll^im.eH-  because  in  him  the  civil  will  and  the  natural  are 
an  one^  Also^^^^^^^^^^^  PoU^^^'^  (M- IV,  ^o).  "How. unjust 
soever  the  action  be,  that  this  sovereign  demus  shall  do,  is  done 
b^t^e  win  Tevery  particular  man  subject  to  him,  .who.  are 
thereforreuiUy  of  the  same.  If  therefore  they  style  it  injury, 
he^but  afcu  e^hemselves.  And  it  is  against  reason  for  the  same 
rnan  both  to  do  and  complain;  implymg  .this  contradiction,  that 
Xeas  he  first  ratified  the  People's  acts  ;n  general  ^;^;j^<^^-  f^^ 
allnweth  the  same  of  them  in  particular.  It  is  thereiore  saia 
truly,  ^o/Jn'*  non  fit  injuna.    Nevertheless  nothmg  doth  hmder. 


M" 


J,  LEVIATHAN 

Fifthly,  and  consequently  to  that  which  was  said  last, 
no  man  that  hath  sovereign  power  can  justly  be  put  to 
death,  or  otherwise  in  any  manner  by  his  subjects  pun- 
ished. For  seeing  every  subject  is  author  of  the  actions 
of  his  sovereign ;  he  punisheth  another  for  the  actions 
committed  by  himself.* 


RIGHTS  OF  SOVEREIGNS 


333 


but  that  divers  actions  done  by  tht  peop'^.  «-'y  M  "»J"**  ''**°" 
God  Almighty,  as  breaches  of  the  laws  of  nature. 

•Comoare  Philosophical  Rudiments,   (M.   U,  IS3;-       \"^f 
can  neUher  be  b^und  to  itself,  nor  to  any    subject;  not  to  .tself, 
becaS      no  man  can  be  obliged  except  .t  be  to  another^  not  W 
any  -bjec^  because  ^^^  -"!ltns"otch^l^^r  i^Kty' will  be 
^elrim*  1  Tuih  oM^attn    thfsubjects  will  so  too;  and  by 
c^nseauSce  she  is  so.    But  that  which  holds  true  m  a  city,  that 
multX  supposed  to  be  true  in  a  man,  x)r  an  assembly  of  men 
who  have  the  supreme  authority;  for  they  make  a  city,  which 
hath  no  being  but  by  their  supreme  power.    Now  that  this  opin- 
ion cannot  consist  with  the  very  being  of  gov«?™«"'' '^^Y>^^^ 
trom  hence-  that  by  it  the  knowledge  of  what  is  good  and  ev,l 
thaHs  to  say   the  definition  of  what  is,  and  what  is  not  against 
{he  laws  would  return  to  each  single  person.  Obedience  therefore 
wUl  clase   as  oft  as  anything  seems  to  be  commanded  contrary 
W    he  civ  1  laws,  and  together  with  it  all  coercive  JHn^dict.on 
which  cannot  possibly  be  without  the  destruction  of  the  very 
essence  of  eovernment.    Yet  this  error  hath  great  props,  Ans- 
totf"  and  ofhers"  who,  by  reason  of  human  infirmity    suppose 
the  supreme  power  to  be  committed  with  most  s"""*?  t°.*' 
laws  onlv      But  they  seem  to  have  looked  very  shallowly  into 
IhlnaS;  of  government,   who  thought  that  the   constraining 
oower    the  intefpretation  of  laws,  and  the  making  of  laws,  all 
which  are  ^wers  necessarily  belonging  to  government,  should 

be  left  wholly  to  the  laws  themselves..  Now  „f ''°"f  P="t*^=tw 
subjects  may  sometimes  contend  m  judgment,  and  go  to  law 
with  the  supreme  magistrate ;  yet  this  is  only  then,  when  the 
question  is  not  what  the  magistrate  may,  but  what  ty  a  certain 
?ule  he  hath  declared  he  would  do.  As.  when  by  any  law  the 
judges  sit  upon  the  life  of  a  subject,  the  question  is  not  whether 
ihe  magistrate  could  by  his  absolute  right  deprive  him  of  his 
life-  but  whether  by  that  law  his  will  was  that  he  should  be 
deprived  of  it  But  his  will  was.  he  should,  if  he  brake  the  law; 
else  his  will  was.  he  should  not.  This  therefore,  that  a  subject 
may  have  an  action  of  law  against  his  supreme  magistrate,  ,s  not 
strength  of  argument  sufficient,  to  prove,  that  he  is  tied  to  his 

own  laws.     On  the  contrary,  it  is  .«^'f  "*  t*'.^*  ^'^^'^{""Vaws 
to  his  own  laws;  because  no  man  is  bound  to  himselt.     Laws 


And  because  the  end  of  this  institution,  is  the  peace 
and  defence  of  them  all ;  and  whosoever  has  right  to  the 
end,  has  right  to  the  means  ;|Tt  belongeth  of  right,  to 
whatsoever  man,  or  assembly  that  hath  the  sovereignty 
to  be  judge  both  of  the  means  of  peace  and  defence,  and 
also  of  the  hindrances,  and  disturbances  of  the  same;  and 
^^^nxw^^y^r  he  shall  think  necessary  to  be  done, 
t^^STb^fo^and,  forJhe_£reservine:j^f  pcarf  and  secur- 
itylby  prevention'of  discord  at  home,  and  hostility  from 
^ad;  and,  when  peace  and  security  are  lost,  for  the 
recovery  of  the  same.    And  therefore, 

Sixthly  it  is  annexed  to  the^overeigntY.  tO  be  judge 
of  what  opinions  and  doctrines  are  averse^  and  what 
inducing  to  peace;  and  consequently,  on  what  occasions, 
how  far,  and  wh.t  men  are  to  be  trusted  withal,  m  speak- 
ing to  multitudes  of  people ;  and  whojhalLSSH^e  the 
doctrines  of  «11hgoks  before  they  be  published.    For  the 
actions  of  men  proceed  from  their  opinions;  and  m  the 
well-governing  of  opinions,  consisteth  the  well-govemmg 
of  men's  actions,  in  order  to  their  peace,  and  concord. 
And  though  in  matter  of  doctrine,  nothing  ought  to  be 
regarded  but  the  truth ;  yet  this  is  not  repugnant  to  regu- 
lating the  same  by  peace.     For  doctrine  repugnant  to 

SIS'  e  jivna.;  v?:rrsMS;»'*.  «-■- 

also  a  judge  above  him.  and  a  power  to  pumsh  him,  which 


'i 

4 

\ 


^m 


w 


LEVIATHAN 


peace,  can  no  more  be  true,  than  peace  and  concord  can 
be  against  the  law  of  nature.  It  is  true,  that  in  a  common- 
wealth, where  by  the  negligence,  or  unskilfulness  of 
governors,  and  teachers,  false  doctrines  are  by  time  gen- 
erally received ;  the  contrary  truths  may  be  generally  of- 
fensive. Yet  the  most  sudden,  and  rough  bursting  in  of 
a  new  truth,  that  can  be,  does  never  break  the  peace, 
but  only  sometimes  awake  the  war.  For  those  men  that 
are  so  remissly  governed,  that  they  dare  take  up  arms  to 
defend,  or  introduce  an  opinion,  are  still  in  war;  and 
their  condition  not  peace,  but  only  a  cessation  of  arms  for 
fear  of  one  another ;  and  they  live,  as  it  were,  in  the  pre- 
cincts of  battle  continually.  It  belongeth  therefore  to  him 
that  hath  the  sovereign  power,  to  be  judge,  or  constitute 
all  judges  of  opinions  and  doctrines,  as  a  thing  necessary 
to  peace ;  thereby  to  prevent  discord  and  civil  war. 

Seventhly,  is  annexed  to  tfee^sovereignty,  the  whole 
power  of  prescribing  the  rules,  ^hprehy  every  man  may- 
know,  what  ^oods  he  may  enioy,>^nd  what  actions  he  may>- 
do,  without  being  molested  by  any  of  his  fellow-subjects; 
l[iS  thisjs  it  men  call  ^rotn£ly.  For  before  constitution 
of  sovereign  power,  as  hath  already  been  shown,  all  men 
had  right  to  all  things;  which  necessarily  causeth  war: 
and  therefore  this  propriety,  being  necessary  to  peace, 
and  depending  on  sovereign  power,  is  the  act  of  that 
power,  in  order  to  the  public  peace.  These  rules  of  pro- 
priety, or  meum  and  tuum,  and  of  good,  evil,  lawful,  and 
unlawful  in  the  actions  of  subjects,  are  the  civil  laws; 
that  is  to  say,  the  laws  of  each  commonwealth  in  particu- 
lar; though  the  name  of  civil  law  be  now  restrained  to 
the  ancient  civil  laws  of  the  city  of  Rome;  which  being 


to  make  a  new  sovereign;  and  again  for  the  same  reason  a  third, 
to  punish  the  second ;  and  so  continually  without  end,  to  the 
confusion,  and  dissolution  of  the  commonwealth.' 


RIGHTS  OF  SOVEREIGNS 


335 


I 


the  head  of  a  great  part  of  the  world,  her  laws  at  that 
time  were  in  these  parts  the  civil  law.  ^      .  ,       . 

Eighthly,  is  annexed  to  the  sovereignty,  thinghLg^ 
judic^W:^Li!i;LJli2J^'  of  hearing^and  decidmg  all 
c^iSSSkT  which  m^;7^riie  concerning  law,  either 
^^d^i^CoTx^VirTiX)  or  concerning  fact.     For  without  the 
decision  of  controversies,  there  is  no  protection  of  one 
subject,  against  the  injuries  of  another;  the  laws  con- 
cerning meum  and  tuum  are  in  vain;  and  to  every  man 
remaineth,  from  the  natural  and  necessary  appetite  of 
his  own  conservation,  the  right  of  protecting  himself  by 
his  private  strength,  which  is  the  condition  of  war   and 
contrary  to  the  end  for  f^hich  every  commonwealth  is 

instituted. 

Ninthly,  is  annexed  tojhe  sovereignty,  the  right  of^ 
making  warandpeace  ^^  other  nations,  anTco^n^- 
^jpSTffiiTlhinrto  say,  of  judging-^^hS  it  is  for  the 
public  good,  and  how  great  forces  are  to  be  assembled, 
armed,  and  paid  for  that  end;  and  to  levy  money  upon 
the  subjects,  to  defray  the  expenses  thereof.     For  the 
power  by  which  the  people  are  to  be^defended,  consist- 
cth  in  their  armies ;  and  the  strength  of  an  army,  m  the 
union  of  their  strength  under  one  command;  which  com- 
mand the  sovereign  instituted,  therefore  hath;  because 
the  command  of  the  mmtia,  without  other  institution,  mak- 
eth  him  that  hath  it  sovereign.    And  therefore  whosoever 
is  made  general  of  an  army,  he  that  hath  the  sovereign 
power  is  always  generalissimo.'  ^ 

Tenthly,  is  annexed  to  the  sovereignty,  thejhoosmg 
of  all  counsellors,  ministers,  magistrates,  and  officers, 
both  "in  pe^^Tind  war.  For  seeing  the  sovereign  is 
charged  with  the  end,  which  is  the  common  peace  and 
defense,  he  is  understood  to  have  power  to  use  such  means, 
as  he  shall  think  most  fit  for  his  discharge. 


W 


336 


LEVIATHA^ 


Eleventhly,  to  the  sovereign  is  committed  the_power 
qf  re^aiarding  witlijighes,  or  honour,  and  of_punishing 
with  corporal  or  pecuniary  punishment,  or  with  ignqrpiny, 
every  subject  according  to  the  law  he  hath  formerly  made; 
or  if  there  be  no  law  made,  according  as  he  shall  judge 
most  to  conduce  to  the  encouraging  of  men  to  serve  the 
commonwealth,  or  deterring  of  them  from  doing  dis- 
service to  the  same. 

Lastly,  considering  what  value  men  are  naturally  apt 
to  set  upon  themselves ;  what  respect  they  look  for  from 
others ;  and  how  little  they  value  other  men ;  from  whence 
continually  arise  amongst  them,  emulation,  quarrels,  fac- 
tions, and  at  last  war,  to  the  destroying  of  one  another, 
and  diminution  of  their  strength  against  a  common  ene- 
my; it  is  necessary  that  th^re  be  laws  of  honour,  and  a 
public  rate  of  the  worth  of  such  men  as  have  deserved, 
or  are  able  to  deserve  well  of  the  commonwealth;  and 
that  there  be  force  in  the  hands  of  some  or  other,  to  put 
those  laws  in  execution.    But  it  hath  already  been  shown, 
that  not  only  ^he  whole  militia,  or  forces  of  the  comniion- 
wealth ;  but  also  the  judicature  of  all  controversies,  is  an- 
nexed to  the  sovereignty.    To  the  sovereign  therefore  it 
belongeth  also  tnjT^^  ^'^^^^^  "^  honour :  and  to  appoint 
what  order  of  place,  and  dignity,  each  man  shall  hold; 
and  what  signs  of  respect,  in  public  or  private  meetings, 
they  shall  give  to  one  another. 

These  are  the  rights,  which  make  the  essence  of  sov- 
ereignty ;  and  which  are  the  marks,  whereby  a  man  may 
discern  in  what  man,  or  assembly  of  men,  the  sovereign 
power  is  placed,  and  resideth.  For  these  are  incommun- 
icable, and  inseparable.  The  power  to  coin  money ;  to  dis- 
pose of  the  estate  and  persons  of  infant  heirs ;  to  have 
praeemption  in  markets ;  and  all  other  statute  prerogatives, 
may  be  transferred  by  the  sovereign ;  and  yet  the  power 


RIGHTS^OF  SOVEREIGNS 


337 


It 


to  protect  his  subjects  be  retained.    But  if  he  ti-ansfer 

the  government  of  doctrine.  ^^^^^^^ 
rebellion  with  the  fear  of  spirits.    Ana  so  ii 
any  one  of  the  said  rights,  we  shall  Presently  see   th^^ 
.     ,    u-         f  oil  thP  rest  will  produce  no  effect,  in  tne 

liits  f"  s  r»..i«.  .>.«  ="<■ '".  *«!■  f 

that  these  powers  were  divided  between  the  Kmg,  and 
1    I^rS/and  the  House  of  Commons,  the  P«>ple  had 
never  been  divided  and  fallen  into  this  ^ivil  war    first 
Jt^een  those  that  disagreed  in  politics;  and  a  ter  be- 
twerSie  dissenters  about  the  liberty  of  rehgion;  which 
W  so  instructed  men  in  this  point  of  sovereign  nght 
thit  there  be  few  now  in  England  that  do  not  see  that 
te  e  Shts  areTnseparable.  and  will  be  so  generally  ac 
WnXlSged  :t  the  nSt  return  of  P^- 1  and  ^  con^^^^^ 
till  their  miseries  are  forgotten;  and  no  longer,  except 
ihe  vuiir  be  better  taught  than  they  have  h.therto  been. 
And  because  they  are  essential  and  inseparable  rights 
!.  follows  necessarily,  that  in  whatsoever  words  any  of 
Urn  se:m;:":  gran^d  away,  yet  if  tje  sove.ign  ^wer 
itself  be  not  in  direct  te- jnounced  and   he  name^o^ 

^tm^hT^^r^^fa:t^----^^^^ 

S  he  can.  if  we  grant  back  the  sovereignty,  all  is  re 


!l ';■' '[ 


\ 


ii 


sfi 


LEVIATHAN 


annexed  to  the  sovereignty,  there  is  little  ground  for  the 
opinion  of  them,  that  say  of  sovereign  kings,  though  they 
be  singulis  majores,  of  greater  power  than  every  one  of 
their  subjects,  yet  they  be  universis  minor es,  of  less  power 
than  them  all  together.  For  if  by  all  together,  they  mean 
not  the  collective  body  as  one  person,  then  all  together, 
and  every  one,  signify  the  same ;  and  the  speech  is  absurd. 
But  if  by  all  together,  they  understand  them  as  one  per- 
son, which  person  the  sovereign  bears,  then  the  power  of 
all  together,  is  the  same  with  the  sovereign's  power';  and 
so  again  the  speech  is  absurd :  which  absurdity  they  see 
well  enough,  when  the  sovereignty  is  in  an  assembly  of 
the  people ;  but  in  a  monarch  they  see  it  not ;  and  yet  the 
power  of  sovereignty  is  the  same  in  whomsoever  it  be 
placed.* 


•Compare  Philosophical  Rudiments,  (M.  II,  80  n.).  "A  pop- 
ular state  openly  challengeth  absolute  dominion,  and  the  citizens 
oppose  it  not.  For,  in  the  gathering  together  of  many  men,  they 
acknowledge  the  face  of  a  city;  and  even  the  unskilful  under- 
stand, that  matters  there  are  ruled  by  council.  Yet  monarchy 
is  no  less  a  city  than  democracy;  and  absolute  kings  have  their 
counsellors,  from  whom  they  will  take  advice,  and  suffer  their 
power,  in  matters  of  greater  consequence,  to  be  guided  but  not 
recalled.  But  it  appears  not  to  most  men,  how  a  city  is  con- 
tained in  the  person  of  a  king.  And  therefore  they  object  against 
absolute  command:  first,  that  if  any  man  had  such  a  right,  the 
condition  of  the  citizens  would  be  miserable.  For  thus  they 
think;  he  will  take  all,  spoil  all,  kill  all;  and  every  man  counts 
it  his  only  happiness,  that  he  is  not  already  spoiled  and  killed. 
But  why  should  he  do  thus?  Not  because  he  can;  for  unless 
he  have  mind  to  it,  he  will  not  do  it.  Will  he,  to  please  one 
or  some  few,  spoil  all  the  rest?  First,  though  by  right,  that  is, 
without  injury  to  them,  he  may  do  it,  yet  can  he  not  do  it 
justly,  that  is,  without  breach  of  the  natural  laws  and  injury 
against  God.  And  therefore  there  is  some  security  for  sub- 
jects in  the  oaths  which  princes  take.  Next,  if  he  could  justly 
do  it,  or  that  he  made  no  account  of  his  oath,  yet  appears  there 
no  reason  why  he  should  desire  it,  since  he  finds  no  good  in  it. 
But  it  cannot  be  denied,  but  a  prince  may  sometimes  have  an 
inclination  to  do  wickedly.  But  grant  then,  that  thou  hadst 
given  him  a  power  which  were  not  absolute,  but  so  much  only  as 


RIGHTS  OF  SOVEREIGNS 


339 


\nd  as  the  power^o  also  the  honotg^LthlJQyglglg. 

for  in  the  sovereignty  is  thi  fountain  of  h5H3ir.  The  dig- 
nities  of  lord,  earl,  duke,  and  prince  are  h,s  creatures.  As 
in  the  presence  of  the  master,  the  servants  are  equal,  and 
without  any  honour  at  all ;  so  are  the  subjects,  m  the  pres- 
ence of  the  sovereign.  And  though  they  shine  some  more, 
some  less,  when  they  are  out  of  his  sight.;  yet  m  h.s  pres- 
ence' the;  shine  no  more  than  the  stars  m  the  presence 

of  the  sun.  ,  ..  .        r     u 

But  a  man  may  here  object,  that  the  condition  of  sub- 
jects is  very  miserable ;  as  being  obnoxious  to  the  lusts, 

sufficed  to  defend  thee  from  the  N-ies  of  "the- i^fuh  "sam^e 

wilt  be  safe,  is  necessary  for  thee  t°  8've .  are  not 

things  to  be  feared?    For  he  '*•«  hath  strengtn^e      g        ^y^^^ 

tect  all,  wants  not  sufficiency  t°  °PP5f  =  *"„t  be  without  some 
difficulty  then,  but  that  hutnan  affairs  can^^^^^ 
inconvenience.    And    h.s  mconv^mence  nsel    .  ^^^     ^^ 

not  in  the  government.    5°^ '*  ■?!*"    ^"'"could  they  live  accord- 
man  by  his  own  cotnmand.  tha'  's  to  say   coum  t    y   ^^  ^^^  ^^  ^ 

Kt\7i  rhose"thi«  ti£^^  "fihSrofCS 

their  private  interest,  and  ^^''^L^^^j'^^^iHuties  without  the 
cannot  sometimes  be  ^X'r'e  o°re'"  inc"s'  so^eltaes  forbear  the 
hazard  °' /h'  city,     wnereio    j  somewhat  of  the 

exercise  of  their  "K^Vj/riV"  On  the  rights  of  sovereignty 
act,  but  nothing  of  their  "^M.     ynine     b  , 

lie  fs  sole  legislator:  and  sfX!.ran"d  oea°ce  to  h^m  belongeth 
the  times,  and  occasions  of  war,  and  peace,  lo  "»"»  .   ^, 

to  cCse  magistrates,  counsellors,   commanders,   and  all  other 


U 


f\\ 


I 


I':  •■; 


rl< 


340 


LEVIATHAN 


and  other  irregular  passions  of  him,  or  them  that  have 
so  unlimited  a  power  in  their  hands.  And  commonly  they 
that  live  under  a  monarch,  think  it  the  fault  of  monar- 
chy ;  and  they  that  live  under  the  government  of  democ- 
racy, or  other  sovereign  assembly,  attribute  all  the  in- 
convenience to  that  form  of  commonwealth ;  whereas  the 
power  in  all  forms,  if  th^  be  perfect  enough  to  protect 
them,  is  the  same :  not  considering  that  the  state  of  man 
can  never  be  without  some  incommodity  or  other;  and 
that  the  greatest,  that  in  any  form  of  government  can 
possibly  happen  to  the  people  in  general,  is  scarce  sen- 
sible, in  respect  to  the  miseries,  and  horrible  calamities, 
that  accompany  a  civil  war,  or  that  dissolute  condition 
of  master  less  men,  without  subjection  to  laws,  and  a  co- 
ercive power  to  tie  their  hands  from  rapine  and  revenge: 
nor  considering  that  the  greatest  pressure  of  sovereign 
governors,  proceedeth  not  from  any  delight,  or  profit  they 
can  expect  in  the  damage  or  weakening  of  their  subjects, 
in  whose  vigour,  consisteth  their  own  strength  and  glory ; 
but  in  the  restiveness  of  themselves,  that  unwillingly  con- 
tributing to  their  own  defence,  make  it  necessary  for  their 
governors  to  draw  from  them  what  they  can  in  time  of 
peace,  that  they  may  have  means  on  any  emergent  occas- 
ion, or  sudden  need,  to  resist,  or  take  advantage  on  their 
enemies.    For^ll  men  are  by  nature  provided  of  notable 
multiplying  glasses,  that  is  their  passions  and  self-love, 
through  which,  every  little  payment  appeareth  a  great 
grievance ;  but  are  destitute  of  those  prospective  glasses, 
namelv  moral  and  civil  science,  to  see  afar  off  the  miser- 


RIGHTS  OF  SOVEREIGNS 


341 


ies  that  hang  over  them,  and  cannot  without  such  pay- 
ments be  avoided^  '  '       -.      . 

Leviathan,  (M.  HI,  ''f-,^-  „  Vu  *'_ ".  only  monarchs,  but  also 
the  matter  bemg  !ff  f :  «° ^^,"3*  "°  orthe  Conservation  of  the 
^hole  -/^^"^''••'^^^j'^'^'j'h'e  e  was  orJlr  taken  for  an  artificial  inan; 
peace  01  men,,  tnai  as  iiicic  wac  ortJfirial  eternity  of  hie: 

lo  there  be  order  also  taken,  jo^  J^  /~'  ^[^^Xy,  should 
without  which,  men  that  are  governed  by  an  a  ,        ^^^ 

return  into  the  condition  of  war  m  every     8   •  jjeth. 

are  governed  by  one  man,  a\.^°°".^'.,,  the  right  of  succes- 
This^rtmcial  eu™ty  .^^^^^^^^^^^^  Aere  the  dis- 

&  Jf'thl  'suc"ces?^n  is  not  in  ^^^e  present  -^re^^^^  For^.^ 
it  be  in  any  other  P^'^icular  man  or  pnvate  assemo^y,       ^^  ^^^ 

person  sub  ect,  and  may  be  /^s"™  u  in  htaself.  And  if  it  be 
pleasure;  and  consequently  the  right  u  •"  f^^^^^^  (3  t^e  com- 

in  no  particu  ar  man,  ^nt  'eft  t°.^  "^  -^Hm  that  can  get  it; 


ft 


1f^ 


officers,  and  ministers ;  and  to  determine  of  rewards,  and  punish- 
ments,  honour,  and  order.  The  reasons  whereof,  are  the  same 
which  are  alleged  in  the  precedent  chapter,  for  the  same  righta 
and  consequences  of  sovereignty  by  institution. 


w 


\^ 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

OF  THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD  BY  NATURE. 

Th.\t  the  condition  of  mere  nature,  that  is  to  say,  of  abso- 
lute liberty,  such  as  is  theiFS,  that  neither  are  sovereigns, 
nor  subjects,  is  anarchy,  and  the  condition  of  war:  that 
the  precepts,  by  which  men  are  guided  to  avoid  that  con- 
dition, are  the  laws  of  nature :  that  a  commonwealth,  with- 
out sovereign  power,  is  but  a  word  without  substance,  and 
cannot  stand:  that  subjects  owe  to  sovereigps,^.-sig!ple 
obedienc§^Jll.jjl_thingsja:.herffin  their,  obedience  is  not_ 
repugnant  to  the  laws  rfGod,  I  have  sufficiently  proved, 
in  that  which  I  have  already  written.  There  wants  only, 
for  the  entire  knowledge  of  civil  duty,  to  know  what  are 
^hose  laws  of  God.  For  without  that,  a  man  knows  not, 
when  he  is  commanded  any  thing  by  the,  civil^power, 
whether  it  be  contrary  toJHeTaw  of  GQd,_or_not :  and  so, 
either  by  too  much  civil  obedience,  offends  the  Divine 
Majesty;  or  through  fear  of  offending  God,  transgresses 
the  commandments  of  the  commonwealth.  To  avoid 
both  these  rocks,  it  is  necessary  to  know  what  are  the  laws 
divine.  And  seeing  the  knowledge  of  all  law,  dependeth 
on  the  knowledge  of  the  sovereign  power,  I  shall  say 
something  in  that  which  followeth,  of  the  Kingdom  of 

God  is  king,  let  the  earth  rejoice,  saith  the  psalmist, 
(xcvii.  i).  And  again,  (Psalm  xcix.  i)  God  is  king, 
though  the  nations  be  angry;  and  he  that  sitteth  on  the 
cherubims,  though  the  earth  be  moved.  Whether  men  will 
or  not,  they  must  be  subject  always  to  the  divine  power. 
By  denying  the  existence,  or  providence  of  God,  men  may 
shake  off  their  ease,  but  not  their  yoke.  But  to  call  this 
power  of  God,  which  extendeth  itself  not  only  to  man,  but 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD 


343 


also  to  beasts,  and  plants,  and  bodies  -mm^^e^  b^^^ 
nZe  of  kingdom,  is  but  a  metaphorical  use  of  the  word. 
Fr  he  onK  is  p  operly  said  to  reign,  that  governs  his 
rubjects  bv  h  s  w'ord,  and  by  promise  of  rewards  to  those 
S  obey  it  and  by  threatening  them  with  punishment  that 
It^tni  Subjects  therefore  in  the.kingdom  of  G^^ 
are  not  bodies  inanimate,  nor  creatures  irrational ,  because 
^ey  understand  no  precepts  as  his:  nor  atW^^^^^^^^ 
that  believe  not  that  God  has  any  care  of  ^^e  actions  ot 

tlS:  bee..  '"y^'T^'TZZZt^^-Z 

have  hope  of  his  rewards  or  fear  of  his  threatenmgs   i     y 
therefore  that  believe  there  is  a  God  that  gov^^^^^^^^J^ 
t  tand  hath  given  precepts,  and  propounded^^^^^^ 
Td  punishments  to  mankind,  are  God's  subjects,  all  tne 
t^Qt  are  to  be  understood  as  enemies. 
"Vo  rule  by  words,  requires  that  -h  words  be  ^„- 
ifestly  made  known ;  for  else  they  are  no  laws :  for  to  the 
natre  of  laws  belongeth  a  sufficient,  and  clear  Prmul- 
^  ion.  such  as  may  take  away  the  excuse  ^^^^J^ 
which  in  the  laws  of  men  is  but  of  one  only  kind,  and  that 
^proclamation,  or  promulgation  by  *«  vou:e  o^J^^^^^ 
nJcoA  declareth  his  laws  three  ways ;  by  the  dictates  ot 
Z^rt:^n,  by  re^.taUon,  and  by  the  --^^^^^ 
,„.„.  to  whom  by  the  o^^Xl^^^^rii^-^^^  ^ 
:^T^Z:SnaLZi^^  Propnetic:  to  which 
Trtpondeth  a  triple  hearing;  right  reason  sense  super- 
corresponaexi  y  supernatural,  which  con- 

nafural,  and  fmth.    As  for  sense  sp 
sisteth  in  revelation  or  inspiration,  *ere  have  no 
anv  universal  laws  so  given,  because  God  ^peaketh  no 
m  that  manner  but  to  particular  persons,  and  to  divers 

•""pl'^Srence  between  the  other  two  kinds  of 
gJs  word,  rational,  and  prophetic,  there  may  be  attnb- 


■\)    W  fi 


:ti    l: 


'< 


m 


u 


h-' 


Ii 


y^^  LEVIATHAN 

uted  to  God,  a  twofold  kingdom,  natural,  and  prophetic: 
natural,  wherein  he  govemeth  as  many  of  mankmd  as 
acknowledge  his  providence,  by  the  natural  dictates  of 
right  reason ;  and  prophetic,  wherein  having  chosen  out 
one  peculiar  nation,  the  Jews,  for  his  subjects,  he  gov- 
erned them,  and  none  but  them,  not  only  by  natural  rea- 
son, but  by  positive  laws,  which  he  gave  them  by  the 
mouths  of  his  holy  prophets.  Of  the  natural  kmgdom  of 
God  I  intend  to  speak  in  this  chapter. 

The  right  of  nature,  whereby  God  reigneth  over  men, 
and  punisheth  those  that  break  his  laws,  is  to  be  derived, 
not  from  his  creating  them,  as  if  he  required  obedience 
as  of  gratitude  for  his  benefits ;  but  from  hjsjrre^ishkle 
power     I  have  formerly  shown  how  the  sovereign  right 
ariiTth  from  pact:  to  show  how  the  same  right  may  arise 
from  nature,  requires  no  more,  but  to  show  m  what 
case  it  is  never  taken  away.     Seeing  all  men  by  nature 
had  right  to  all  things,  they  had  right  every  one  to  reign 
over  all  the  rest.     But  because  this  right  could  not  be 
obtained  by  force,  it  concerned  the  safety  of  every  one, 
laying  by  that  right,  to  set  up  men,  with  sovereign  author- 
ity, by  common  consent,  to  rule  and  defend  them :  whereas 
if  there  had  been  any  man  of  power  irresistible,  there 
had  been  no  reason,  why  he  should  not  by  that  power  have 
ruled  and  defended  both  himself,  and  them,  accordmg  to 
his  own  discretion.  (To  those  therefore  whose  power  is 
irresistible,  the  dominion  of  all  men  adhereth  naturally 
by  their  excellence  of  power^and  consequently  it  is  from 
that  power,  that  the  kingdom  over  men,  and  the  right  of 
afflicting  men  at  his  pleasure,  belongeth  naturally  to  God 
Almighty ;^ot  as  Creator,  and  gracious;  but  as  omm- 
potentO  And  though  punishment  be  due  for  sin  only, 
because  by  that  word  is  understood  affliction  for  sin ;  yet 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD 


MS 


the' right  of  afflicting,  is  not  always  derived  from  men's 
sin,  but  from  God's  power  ^ 

of  the  Saints,  concerning  the  01^'"^/^"°  ^^^  „f 

A   «itVi  David    (Psalm  Ixxin.  i,  2,  3)  w  f«^  ^""'    ' 
^oorf  saith  Davi<^J.  „„^  y,t  my 

Israel  to  '^'"''l^fJJ'J^l  fadings  had  mll-nigh  slipt; 
^rZ  ;S/arr-V;U  i  /  sa.  the  ungo^y 
•  TJnZeritv  And  Job,  how  earnestly  does  he  ex- 
;riatrXSd,  for  t^e  many  afflictions  he  su«ere  . 

T^SIZ  ifLld^TSd  hims^'not  by  ar.i- 

whereas  the  friends  oi  j  ^^^  ^  himself  by  the 

Ms  ^-^-,*°,.f.„::;^l'if^^^^^^    taketh  up  the 

'Tr'and  h^  nglSfied  the  affliction  by  arguments 
matter,  ana  navmg  j  xxxviu.  4) 

drawn  from  h.s  VO^^^fj^  ^'foundations  of  the 
Where  wast  thou  when  [J^fJ^'l^,^  j„„^ence.  and 
earth?  and  the  like,  both  aPF°^^<|^.J  ,      Conform- 

reproved  the  erroneous  ^^^^^^^l^^^Jo^r,  con- 

'''''' ^Vtel^Tl^itXT^^^^,  in  these  words 
his  soul  from  his  body,)  it  follows  not  thence,  tna 


W 


3l6 


LEVIATHAN 


could  not  justly  have  afflicted  him,  though  he  had  not 
sinned,  as  well  as  he  afflicteth  other  living  creatures,  that 
cannot  sin. 

Having  spoken  of  the  right  of  God*s  sovereignty, 
as  grounded  only  on  nature;  we  are  to  consider  next, 
wl^^t  ^re  the  Divine  laws,  or  dictates  of  natural  reason ; 
which  laws  concern  either  the  natural  duties  of  one  man 
to  another,  or  the  honour  naturally  due  to  our  Divine  Sov- 
ereign. The  first  are  the  same  laws  ofjiatare,  of^^hkh 
I  have  spoken  already  in  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  chap- 
ters  of  this  treatise;  namely,  equity,  justice,  mercy,  hu- 
mility, and  the  rest  of  the  moral  virtues.  It  remaineth 
therefore  that  we  consider,  what  precepts  are  dictated 
to  men,  by  their  natural  reason  only,  without  other  word 
of  God,  touching  the  honour  and  worship  of  the  Divine 
Majesty. 

Honour  consisteth  in  the  inward  thought,  and  opinion 
of  the  power,  and  goodness  of  another;  and  therefore 
to  honour  God,  is  to  think  as  highly  of  his  power  and 
goodness,  as  is  possible.  And  of  that  opinion,  the  external 
signs  appearing  in  the  words  and  actions  of  men,  are 
called  worship;  which  is  one  part  of  that  which  the  Latins 
understand  by  the  word  cultus.  For  ciiltus  signifieth 
properly,  and  constantly,  that  labour  which  a  man  bestows 
on  anything,  with  a  purpose  to  make  benefit  by  it.  Now 
those  things  whereof  we  make  benefit,  are  either  subject 
to  us,  and  the  profit  they  yield,  followeth  the  labour 
we  bestow  upon  them,  as  a  natural  effect;  or  they  are 
not  subject  to  us,  but  answer  our  labour,  according  to  their 
own  wills.  In  the  first  sense  the  labour  bestowed  on  the 
earth,  is  called  culture;  and  the  education  of  children,  a 
culture  of  their  minds.  In  the  second  sense,  where  men's 
wills  are  to  be  wrought  to  our  purpose,  not  by  force,  but 
by  complaisance,  it  signifieth  as  much  as  courting,  that 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD 


347 


is,  a  winning  of  favour  by  good  offices ;  as  by  praises,  by 
acknowledging  their  power,  and  by  whatsoever  is  pleasing 
to  them  from  whom  we  look  for  any  benefit.  And  this  is 
properly  worship:  in  which  sense  Publicola,  is  understood 
for  a  worshipper  of  the  people ;  and  cultus  Dei,  for  the 
worship  of  God. 

From  internal  honour,  consisting  in  the  the  opinion 
of  power  and  goodness,  arise  three  passions ;  love,  which 
hath  reference  to  goodness ;  and  hope,  and  fear,  that  relate 
to  power:  and  three  parts  of  external  worship;  praise, 
magnifying,  and  blessing:  the  subject  of  praise,  being) 
goodness ;  the  subject  of  magnifying  and  blessing,  being 
power,  and  the  effect  thereof  felicity.  Praise,  and  mag- 
nifying are  signified  both  by  words,  and  actions :  by  words, 
when  we  say  a  man  is  good,  or  great :  by  actions,  when 
we  thank  him  for  his  bounty,  and  obey  his  power.  The 
opinion  of  the  happiness  of  another,  can  only  be  expressed 

by  word^. 

There  be  some  signs  of  honour,  both  in  attributes  and 
actions,  that  be  naturally  so ;  as  amongst  attributes,  good, 
just,  liberal,  and  the  like ;  and  amongst  actions,  prayers, 
thanks,  and  obedience.  Others  are  so  by  institution,  or 
custom  of  men ;  and  in  some  times  and  places  are  honour- 
able ;  in  others,  dishonourable ;  in  others,  indifferent :  such 
as  are  the  gestures  in  salutation,  prayer,  and  thanksgiving, 
in  dift'erent  times  and  places,  differently  used.  The  for- 
mer is  natural;  the  latter  arbitrary  worship. 

And  of  arbitrary  worship,  there  be  two  differences :  for 
sometimes  it  is  a  commanded,  sometimes  voluntary  wor- 
ship :  commanded,  when  it  is  such  as  he  requireth,  who  is 
worshipped :  free,  when  it  is  such  as  the  worshipper  thinks 
fit.  When  it  is  commanded,  not  the  words,  or  gesture,  but 
the  obedience  is  the  worship.  But  when  free,  the  worship 
consists  in  the  opinion  of  the  beholders :  for  if  to  them 


348 


LEVIATHAN 


the  words,  or  actions  by  which  we  intend  honour,  seem 
ridiculous,  and  tending  to  contumely,  they  are  no  worship, 
because  no  signs  of  honour;  and  no  signs  of  honour, 
because  a  sign  is  not  a  sign  to  him  that  giveth  it,  but  to 
him  to  whom  it  is  made,  that  is,  to  the  spectator. 

Again,  there  is  a  public,  and  a  private  worship.  Pub- 
lic, is  the  worship  that  a  commonwealth  performeth,  as 
one  person.  Private,  is  that  which  a  private  person  ex- 
hibiteth.  Public,  in  respect  to  the  whole  commonwealth, 
is  free;  but  in  respect  of  particular  men,  it  is  not  so. 
Private,  is  in  secret  free ;  but  in  the  sight  of  the  multi- 
tude, it  is  never  without  some  restraint,  either  from  the 
laws,  or  from  the  opinion  of  men ;  which  is  contrary  to 

the  nature  of  liberty. 

The,,end_of_3:arship...am^  is  power,     l^or 

where  a  man  seeth  another  worshipped,  he  supposeth  him 
powerful,  and  is  the  readier  to  obey  him ;  which  makes 
his  power  greater.  But  God  has  no  ends:  the  worship 
we  do  him,  proceeds  from  our  duty,  and  is  directed  ac- 
cording to  our  capacity,  by  those  rules  of  honour,  that 
reason  dictateth  to  be  done  by  the  weak  to  the  more  potent 
men,  in  hope  of  benefit,  for  fear  of  damage,  or  in  thank- 
fulness for  good  already  received  from  them. 

That  we  may  know  what  worship  of  God  is  taught  us 
by  the  light  of  nature,  Ijyill  begin  with  his  attributes. 
Where,  first,  it  is  manifest,  we  ought  to  attribute  to  him 

/    existenceT^or  no  man  can  have  the  will  to  honour  that, 
"wliich  he  thinks  not  to  have  any  being. 

Sesondly,  that  those  philosophers,  who  said  the  world, 

or  the  soul  of  the  world  was  God,  spake  unworthily  of 

him ;  and  denied  his  existence.    For  by  God,  is  understood 

1^  the  cause  of  the  world ;  and  to  say  the  world  is  God,  is 

to  say  there  is  no  cause  of  it,  that  is,  no  God. 

-3        Thirdly,  to  say  the  world  was  not  created,  but  eternal. 


'HE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD 


349. 


seeing  that  which  is  eternal  has  no  cause,  is  to  deny  there 

is  a  God- 

Fourthlj:,  chat  they  who  attributing,  as  they  think, 
case  to  God,  take  from  him  the  care  of  mankind;  take 
from  him  his  honour :  for  it  takes  away  men's  love,  and 
fear  of  him ;  which  is  the  root  of  honour. 

Fifthly',  in  those  things  that  signify  greatness,  and 
power;  to  say  he  is  nnite,  is  not  to  honour  him:  for  it 
is  not  a  sign  of  the  will  to  honour  God,  to  attribute  to 
him  less  than  we  can;  and  finite,  is  less  than  we  can; 
because  to  finite,  it  is  easy  to  add  more. 

Therefore  to  attribute  ngure  to  him,  is  not  honour; 

for  all  figure  is  finite : 

Nor  to  say  we  conceive,  and  imagine,  or  have  an  idea 
of  him,  in  our  mind :  for  whatsoever  we  conceive  is  finite : 

Nor  to  attribute  to  him  parts,  or  totality;  which  are  the 
attributes  only  of  things  finite : 

Nor  to  say  he  is  in  this,  or  that  place:  for  whatsoever 
is  in  place,  is  bounded,  and  finite : 

Nor  that  he  is  moved,  or  resteth:  for  both  these  attri- 
butes ascribe  to  him  place : 

Nor  that  there  be  more  Gods  than  one;  because  it 
implies  them  all  finite :  for  there  cannot  be  more  than  one 

infinite : 

Nor  to  ascribe  to  him,  (unless  metaphorically,  mean- 
ing not  the  passion  but  the  effect,)  passions  that  partake 
of  grief;  as  repentance,  anger,  mercy:  or  of  want;  as  ap- 
petite,  hope,  desire;  or  of  any  passive  faculty;  for  pas- 
sion, is  power  limited  by  somewhat  else. 

And  therefore  when  we  ascribe  to  God  a  will,  it  is  not 
to  be  understood,  as  that  of  man,  for  a  rational  appetite; 
but  as  the  power,  by  which  he  affecteth  every  thing. , 

Likewise  when  we  attribute  to  him  sight,  and  other 
acts  of  sense;  as  also  knowledge,  and  understanding; 


350 


LEVIATHAN 


which  in  us  is  nothing  else,  but  a  tumult  of  the  mind, 
raised  bv  external  things  that  press  the  organical  parts 
of  man's  body :  for  there  is  no  such  thing  in  God ;  and 
being  things  that  depend  on  natural  causes,  cannot  be 

attributed  to  him. 

He  that  will  attribute  to  God,  nothing  but  what  is 
warranted  by  natural  reason,  must  either  use  such  neg- 
ative attributes,  as  infinite,  eterndjncpmprehensi^e ;  or 
superlatives,  as  most  JTtglh  mosTgreat^ ^nd  the  like;  or 
indefinite,  as  good,  ]ust,  holy,  creator;  and  in  such  sense, 
as  if  he  meant  not  to  declare  what  he  is,  (for  that  were 
to  circumscribe  him  within  the  limits  of  our  fancy,)  but 
how  much  we  admire  him,  and  how  ready  we  would  be 
to  obey  him ;  which  is  a  sign  of  humility,  and  of  a  will 
to  honour  him  as  much  as  we  can.    For  there  is  but  one 
name  to  signify  our  conception  of  his  nature,  and  that  is, 
I  AM  :  and  but  one  name  of  his  relation  to  us,  and  that  is, 
God;  in  which  is  contained  Father,  King,  and  Lord. 

Concerning  the  actions  of  divine  worship,  it  is  a  most 
general  precept  of  reason,  that  they  be  signs  of  the  inten- 
tion to  honour  God ;  such  as  are,  first,  prayers.  For  not 
the  carvers,  when  they  made  images,  were  thought  to 
make  them  gods ;  but  the  people  that  prayed  to  them. 

Secondly,  thanksgiving;  which  differeth  from  prayer 
in  divine  worship,  no  otherwise,  than  that  prayers  precede, 
and  thanks  succeed  the  benefit ;  the  end,  both  of  the  one 
and  the  other,  being  to  acknowledge  God,  for  author 
of  all  benefits,  as  well  past,  as  future. 

Thirdly,  gifts,  that  is  to  say,  sacrifices  and  oblations, 
if  they  be  of  the  best,  are  signs  of  honour:  for  they  are 

thanksgivings. 

Fourthly,  not  to  swear  by  any  but  God,  is  naturally 
a  sign  of  honour:  for  it  is  a  confession  that  God  only 
knoweth  the  heart;  and  that  no  man's  wit  or  strength 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD 


351 


can  protect  a  man  against  God's  vengeance  on  the  per- 
jured. 

Fifthly,  it  is  a  part  of  rational  worship,  to  speak 
considerately  of  God ;  for  it  argues  a  fear  of  him,  and  fear 
is  a  confession  of  his  power.    Hence  followeth,  that  the 
name  of  God  is  not  to  be  used  rashly,  and  to  no  purpose ; 
for  that  is  as  much,  as  in  vain :  and  it  is  to  no  purpose, 
unless  it  be  by  way  of  oath,  and  by  order  of  the  common- 
wealth, to  make  judgments  certain;  or  between  common- 
wealths, to  avoid  war.     And  that  disputing  of  God's 
nature  is  contrary  to  his  honour :  for  it  is  supposed,  that 
in  this  natural  kingdom  of  God,  there  is  no  other  way  to 
know  anything,  but  by  natural  reason,  that  is,  from  the 
principles  of  natural  science ;  which  are  so  far  from  teach- 
ing us  anything  of  God's  nature,  as  they  cannot  teach  us 
our  own  nature,  nor  the  nature  of  the  smallest  creature 
living.    And  therefore,  when  men  out  of  the  principles  of 
natural  reason,  dispute  of  the  attributes  of  God,  they  but 
dishonour  him:  for  in  the  attributes  which  we  give  to 
God,  we  are  not  to  consider  the  signification  of  philosoph- 
ical'truth;  but  the  signification  of  pious  intention,  to 
do  him  the  greatest  honour  we  are  able.    From  the  want 
of  which  consideration,  have  proceeded  the  volumes  of  dis- 
putation about  the  nature  of  God,  that  tend  not  to  his 
honour,  but  to  the  honour  of  our  own  wits  and  learning; 
and  are  nothing  else  but  inconsiderate  and  vain  abuses  of 

his  sacred  name. 

Sixthly,  in  prayers,  thanksgivings,  offerings,  and  sac- 
rifices, it  is  a  dictate  of  natural  reason,  that  they  be  every 
one  in  his  kind  the  best,  and  most  significant  of  honour. 
As  for  example,  that  prayers  and  thanksgiving,  be  made  m 
words  and  phrases,  not  sudden,  nor  light,  nor  plebeian; 
but  beautiful,  and  well  composed.  For  else  we  do  not 
God  as  much  honour  as  we  can.    And  therefore  the  hea- 


i; 
II 


*  I 


\\> 


352 


LEVIATHAN 


thens  did  absurdly,  to  v/orship  images  for  gods :  but  their 
doing  it  in  verse,  and  with  music,  both  of  voice  and  in- 
struments, was  reasonable.  Also  that  the  beasts  they 
offered  in  sacrifice,  and  the  gifts  they  offered,  and  their  ac- 
tions in  worshipping,  were  full  of  submission,  and  com- 
memorative of  benefits  received,  was  according  to  reason, 
as  proceeding  from  an  intention  to  honour  him. 

Seventhly,  reason  directeth  not  only  to  worship  God  in 
secret ;  but  also,  and  especially,  in  public,  and  in  the  sight 
of  men.  For  without  that,  that  which  in  honour  is  most 
acceptable,  the  procuring  others  to  honour  him,  is  lost. 

Lastly,  obedience  to  his  laws,  that  is,  in  this  case  to  the 
laws  of  nature,  is  the  greatest  worship  of  all.  For  as 
obedience  is  more  acceptable  to  God  than  sacrifice;  so 
also  to  set  light  by  his  commandments,  is  the  greatest  of 
all  contumelies.  And  these  are  the  laws  of  that  divine 
worship,  which  natural  reason  dictateth  to  private  men. 

But  seeing  a  commonwealth  is  but  one  person,  it  ought 
also  to  exhibit  to  God  but  one  worship ;  which  then  it  doth, 
when  it  commandeth  it  to  be  exhibited  by  private  men, 
publicly.  And  this  is  public  worship ;  the  property  where- 
of, is  to  be  uniform:  for  those  actions  that  arc  done  differ- 
ently, by  different  men.  cannot  be  said  to  be  a  public  wor- 
ship. And  therefore,  where  many  sorts  of  worship  be  al- 
lowed, proceeding  from  different  religions  of  private  men, 
it  cannot  be  said  there  is  any  public  worship,  nor  that  the 
commonwealth  is  of  any  religion  at  all. 

And  because  words,  and  consequently  the  attributes 
•of  God,  have  their  signification  by  agreement  and  con- 
stitution of  men,  those  attributes  are  to  be  held  signifi- 
cative of  honour,  that  men  intend  shall  so  be ;  and  what- 
soever may  be  done  by  the  wills  of  particular  men,  where 
there  is  no  law  but  reason,  may  be  done  by  the  will  of  the 
commonwealth,  by  laws  civil.    And  because  a  common- 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD 


3S3 


Kealth  hath  no  will,  nor  makes  no  laws,  but  those  that  are 
made  by  the  will  of  him,  or  them  that  have  the  sovereign 
^wer-  it  foUoweth  that  those  attributes  which  the  sov- 
S^'o  daineth,  in  the  worship  of  God,  ^or  s.gns  of 
honSr,  ought  to  be  taken  and  used  for  such,  by  pnvate 

but  some  are  naturally  signs  of  honour,  others  of  con- 
tLr  these  latter,  which  are  those  that  men  are  asham- 
ed  to  do  in  the  sight  of  them  they  -verence  cannot  be 
made  by  human  power  a  part  of  Divine  worship;  nor  the 
Trier    suX  as  are  decent,  modest,  humble  behaviour, 
v^b;  separated  from  it.    But  whereas  there  be  an  in^^ 
Lte  number  of  actions  and  gestures  o    an  in^^^^^^^ 
nature;  such  of  them  as  the  commonwealth  ^h^^/^^^^^ 
to  be  publicly  and  universally  in  use,  as  signs  of  honour 
^d  part  of  God's  worship,  are  to  be  taken  and  used   or 
such  by  the  subjects.      And  that  which  is  said  m  the 
Scripture,  //  is  better  to  obey  God  than  man,  hath  place 
in  the  kingdom  of  God  by  pact,  and  not  by  ^a^ure. 

Having  thus  briefly  spoken  of  the  natural  kingdom  of 
God  rnd  his  natural  laws,  I  will  add  only  to  this  chap^^^^ 
Hhort  declaration  of  his  natural  punishments.    There  .s 
no  action  of  man  in  this  life,  that  is  not  the  begmnm^^^^^^^ 
so  long  a  chain  of  consequences,  as  no  human  Providence 
shih  enough,  to  give  a  man  a  prospect  to  the  end.    And 
In  tht  chain'  there'Lre  linked  together^J^  ^^^^^^^^^^^ 
unpleasing  events ;  in  such  manner,  as  he  that «  an^^ 
thing  for  his  pleasure,  must  engage  himself  to  suffer 
all  the  pains  annexed  to  it;  and  these  paans,  are  the  na^- 
'    ura   punishments  of  those  actions,  f^^^-^'.f'^J^^^^ 
nine  of  more  harm  than  good.    And  hereby  it  comes  to 
;ri  that  intemperance  is  naturally  puni  Jed  w^  d.- 
Sses;   rashness,   with   mischances;   mjustice,   with  the 


3S4 


LEVIATHAN 


violence  of  enemies;  pride,  with  ruin;  cowardice,  with 
oppression;  negligent  government  of  princes,  with  re- 
bellion; and  rebellion,  with  slaughter.  For  seeing  pun- 
ishments are  consequent  to  the  breach  of  laws;  natural 
punishments  must  be  naturally  consequent  to  the  breach 
of  the  laws  of  nature ;  and  therefore  follow  them  as  their 
natural,  not  arbitrary  effects. 

And  thus  far  concerning  the  constitution,  nature,  and 
right  of  sovereigns,  and  concerning  the  duty  of  sub- 
jects, derived  from  the  principles  of  natural  reason.  And 
now,  considering  how  different  this  doctrine  is,  from  the 
practice  of  the  greatest  part  of  the  world,  especially  of 
these  western  parts,  that  have  received  their  moral  learn- 
ing from  Rome  and  Athens;  and  how  much  depth  of 
moral  philosophy  is  required,  in  them  that  have  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  sovereign  power  ;|r^m  at  the  point  of 
believing  this  my  labour,  as  useless,  as  the  commonwealth  / 
of  Plato.  For  he  also  is  of  opinion  that  it  is  impossible  ^ 
for  the  disorders  of  state,  and  change  of  governments 
by  civil  war,  ever  to  be  taken  away,  till  sovereigns 
be  philosophersH  But  when  I  consider  again,  that  the 
science  of  natural  justice,  is  the  only  science  necessary 
for  sovereigns  and  their  principal  ministers ;  and  that  they 
need  not  be  charged  with  the  sciences  mathematical,  as 
by  Plato  they  are,  farther  than  by  good  laws  to  encourage 
men  to  the  study  of  them;  and  that  neither  Plato,  nor 
any  other  philosopher  hitherto,  hath  put  into  order,  and 
sufficiently  or  probably  proved  all  the  theorems  of  moral 
doctrine,  that  men  mav  learn  thereby,  both  how  to  gov- 
ern, and  how  to  obey  /j  recover  some  hope,  that  one  time  V/ 
or  other,  this  writing  ol  mine  may  fall  into  the  hands  of 
a  sovereign,  who  will  consider  it  himself,  ( for  it  is  short, 
and  I  think  clear,)  without  the  help  of  any  interested, 
or  envious   interpreter;   and   by   the   exercise   of  entire 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  GOD 


35S 


sovereignty,  in  protecting  the  public  teaching  of  it, 
convert  this  trtith  of  speculation,  into  the  utility  of 
practiccTl 


f 


> 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

OF    WHAT    IS    NECESSARY    FOR    A    MAN's    RECEPTION    INTO 

THE  KINGDOM  OF  HEAVEN. 

The  most  frequent  pretext  of  sedition,  and  civil  war,  in 
Christian  commonwealths,  hath  a  long  time  proceeded 
from  a  difficulty,  not  yet  sufficiently  resolved,  of  obeying 
at  once  both  God  and  man,  then  when  their  command- 
ments are  one  contrary  to  the  other.  It  is  manifest 
enough,  that  when  a  man  receiveth  two  contrary  com- 
mands, and  knows  that  one  of  them  is  God's,  he  ought 
to  obey  that,  and  not  the  other,  though  it  be  the  command 
even  of  his  lawful  sovereign  (whether  a  monarch,  or  a 
sovereign  assembly),  or  the  command  of  his  father. 
The  difficulty  therefore  consisteth  in  this,  that  men, 
when  they  are  commanded  in  the  name  of  God,  know 
not  in  divers  cases,  whether  the  command  be  from  God, 
or  whether  he  that  commandeth  do  but  abuse  God*s  name 
for  some  private  ends  of  his  own.  For  as  there  were  in 
the  Church  of  the  Jews,  many  false  prophets,  that  sought 
reputation  with  the  people,  by  feigned  dreams  and  vis- 
ions; so  there  have  been  in  all  times  in  the  Church  of 
Christ,  false  teachers,  that  seek  reputation  with  the  peo- 
ple, by  fantastical  and  false  doctrines ;  and  by  such  repu- 
tation, (as  is  the  nature  of  ambition),  to  govern  them 
for  their  private  benefit. 

But  this  difficulty  of  obeying  both  God  and  the  civil 
sovereign  on  earth,  to  those  that  can  distinguish  be- 
tween what  is  necessary,  and  what  is  not  necessary  for 
their  reception  into  the  kingdom  of  God,  is  of  no  mo- 
ment. For  if  the_oommandofthe  civil  sovereign  be  such, 
as  that  it  may  be  obeved  without  the  forfeiture  of  life 


, 


WHAT  NECESSARY  TO  SALVATION  357 

^tpmal:  not  to  obey  it  is  unjust;  and  the  precept  of  the 
^pSidetakes  place:  Servants  obey  your  masters  m  all 
things;  and  Children  obey  your  parents  tn  all  things; 
and  the  precept  of  our  Saviour,  The  Scribes  and  Phari- 
sees sit  in  Moses'  chair;  all  therefore  they  shall  say,  thca 
obsen'e  and  do.  But  if  the  command  be  such  as  cannot  be 
obeved,  without  being  damned  to  eternal  death ;  then  it 
were  madness  to  obey  it,  and  the  council  of  our  Saviour 
takes  place,  {Matth.  x.  28),  Fear  not  those  that  kill  the 
body,  but  cannot  kill  the  soul.    All  men  therefore  that 
would  avoid,  both  the  punishments  that  are  to  be  m  this 
world  inflicted,  for  disobedience  to  their  earthly  sove- 
reign, and  those  that  shall  be  inflicted  in  the  world  to 
come,  for  disobedience  to  God,  h^ve  need  be  taught  to 
distinguish  well  between  what  is,  and  what  is  not  neces- 
sary to  eternal  salvation.  ...» 
/    All  that  is  NECESSARY  to  salvation,  is  contamed  in  two 
virtues,  faith  in  Christ,  and  obedience  to  laws.    The  lat- 
ter of  these,  if  it  were  perfect,  were  enough  to  us.    But 
because  we  are  all  guilty  of  disobedience  to  God's  law, 
not  only  originally  in  Adam,  but  also  actually  by  our  own 
transgressions,  there  is  required  at  our  hands  now.jipt 
onlyobedience  for  the  rest  of  our  time,  hiLaho-^mnis- 
sion  of  sins  for  the  time  past ;  which  remission  is  the  re- 
ward of  our  faith  in  Christ.    That  nothing  else  is  neces- 
sarily required  to  salvation,  is  manifest  from  this,  that 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  shut  to  none  but  to  sinners; 
that  is  to  say,  to  the  disobedient,  or  transgressors  of  the 
law ;  nor  to  them,  in  case  they  repent,  and  believe  all  the 
articles  of  Christian  faith  necessary  to  salvation. 
•   The  obedience  required  at  our  hands  by  God,  that 
accepteth  in  all  our  actions  the  will  for  the  deed    is  a 
serious  endeavour  to  obey  him;  and  is  called  also  by  all 
such  names  as  signify  that  endeavour.  And  therefore  obe- 


s< 


it 


¥ 


358 


LEVIATHAN 


dience  is  sometimes  called  by  the  names  of  chanty  and 
love,  because  they  imply  a  will  to  obey ;  and  our  Saviour 
himself  maketh  our  love  to  God,  and  to  one  another,  a 
fulfilling  of  the  whole  law :  and  sometimes  by  the  name  of 
righteousness;  for  righteousness  is  but  the  will  to  give 
to  every  one  his  own ;  that  is  to  say,  the  will  to  obey  the 
laws:  and  sometimes  by  the  name  of  repentance;  be- 
cause to  repent,  implieth  a  turning  away  from  sin,  which 
is  the  same  with  the  return  of  the  will  to  obedience. 
Whosoever  therefore  unfeignedly  desireth  to  fulfill  the 
commandments  of  God,  or  repenteth  him  truly  of  his 
transgressions,  or  that  loveth  God  with  all  his  heart, 
and  his  neighbour  as  himself,  hath  all  the  obedience 
necessary  to  his  reception  into  the  kingdom  of  God.  For 
if  God  should  require  perfect  innocence,  there  could  no 
flesh  be  saved. 

But  what  commandments  are  those  that  God  hath  giv- 
en us  ?  Are  all  those  laws  which  were  given  to  the  Jews 
by  the  hand  of  Moses,  the  commandments  of  God?  If 
they  be,  why  ►are  not  Christians  taught  to  obey  them?  If 
they  be  not,  what  others  are  so,  besides  the  law  of  nature  ? 
For  our  Saviour  Christ  hath  not  given  us  new  laws,  but 
counsel  to  observe  those  we  are  subject  to;  that  is  to  say, 
the  laws  of  nature,  and  the  laws  of  our  several  sove- 
reigns :  nor  did  he  make  any  new  law  to  the  Jews  in  his 
sermon  on  the  Mount,  but  only  expounded  the  law  of 
Moses,  to  which  they  were  subject  before.  The  laws 
of  God  therefore  are  none  butthe  laws  of  nature,  whereoi 
the  principal  is,  that  we  should  not  violate  our  faith, 
that  is,  a  commandment  to  obey  our  civil  sovereigns, 
which  we  constituted  over  us  by  mutual  pact  one  with 
another.  And^is  law  of  God,  that  commandeth  obe- 
dience to  the  law  civil,  commandeth  by  conseqence  obe- 
dience to  all  the  precepts  of  the  BibleT/which,  as  I  have 


WHAT  NECESSARY  TO  SALVATION  359 

proved  in  the  precedent  chapter,  is  there  only  law,  where 
the  civil  sovereign  hath  made  it  so;  and  in  other  pUcc^, 
but  counsel ;  which  a  man  at  his  own  penl  may  withouc 

injustice  refuse  to  obey. 

^  Knowing  now  what  is  the  obedience  necessary  to 
salvation,  and  to  whom  it  is  due ;  we  are  to  con^der  nex 
concerning  faith,  whom,  and  why  we  beheve ;  and  what 
are  the  articles,  or  points  necessary  to  be  beheved  by 
Sem  that  shall  be  saved.     And  first,  for  the  person 
whl  we  believe,  because  it  is  impossible  to  beheve 
Tny  person,  before  we  know  what  he  saith,  .t  is  necessanr 
he  be le  ^hat  we  have  heard  speak     The  Pe-on  th^^- 
fore   whom  Abraham,  Isaac,  Jacob,  Moses,  and  the  pro- 
phets, believed,  was  God  himself,  that  spake  unto  them 
suDernaturally :  and  the  person,  whom  the  apostles  and 
Se    that'  conversed  with  Christ  believed,  -s  our 
Saviour  himself.     But  of  them,  to  whom  neUher  ^d 
the  father,  nor  our  Saviour,  ever  spake,  rt  ca^t  be^^ 
that  the  person  whom  they  believed,  was  God.    Ihey 
£Led  fhe  apostles,  and  after  them  f  ^  Pajors  and 
doctors  of  the  Church,  that  recommended  to  the^r  jaith 
the  history  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament :  so  that^ti^e 
faith  of  Christians  ever  since  our  Sav.ours  tune   hath 
had  for  foundation,  first,  the  reputation  of  their  pastors 
and  afterward,  the  authority  of  those  that  made  the  Old 
and  New  Testament  to  be  received  for  the  rule  of  faith 
^hich  none  could  do  but  Christian  sovereigns;  who  are 
Therefore  the  supreme  pastors,  and  the  only  Pe-o-  -ho- 
Christians  now  hear  speak  from  God;  except  such  as 
God  speaketh  to  in  these  days  supernaturally.     But  be 
cause  there  be  many  false  prophets  gone  out  ^noth^ 
u'orld,  other  men  are  to  examine  such  spirits,  as  St  John 
advis^th  us.  (ist  Epistle  iv.  i)  whether  they  he  ofGod^ 
or  not.     And  therefore,  seeing  the  examination  of  doc 


i| 


4    « 


36o 


LEVIATHAN 


trines  beloneth  to  the  supreme  pastor,  the  person,  which 
all  they  that  have  no  special  revelation  are  to  believe,  is, 
in  every  commonwealth,  the  supreme  pastor,  that  is  to 
say,  the  civil  sovereign. 

The  causes  why  men  believe  any  Christian  doctrine, 
are  various.  For  faith  is  the  gift  of  God ;  and  he  worketh 
it  in  each  several  man,  by  such  ways  as  it  seemeth  good 
unto  himself.  The  most  ordinary  immediate  cause  of  our 
belief,  concerning  any  point  of  Christian  faith,  is,  that 
we  believe  the  Bible  to  be  the  word  of  God.  But  why 
we  believe  the  Bible  to  be  the  word  of  God,  is  much  dis- 
puted, as  all  questions  must  needs  be,  that  are  not  well 
stated.  For  they  make  not  the  question  to  be,  why  we 
believe  it,  but,  how  we  knoiv  it;  as  if  believing  and  know- 
ing were  all  one.  And  thence  while  one  side  ground  their 
knowledge  upon  the  infallibility  of  the  Church,  the  other 
side,  on  the  testimony  of  the  private  spirit,  neither  side 
concludeth  what  it  pretends.  For  how  shall  a  man  know 
the  infallibility  of  the  Church,  but  by  knowing  first  the 
infallibility  of  Jthe  Scripture  ?  Or  how  shall  a  man  know 
his  own  private  spirit  to  be  other  than  a  belief,  grounded 
upon  the  authority  and  arguments  of  his  teachers,  or 
upon  a  presumption  of  his  own  gifts?  Besides,  there  is 
nothing  in  the  Scripture,  from  which  can  be  inferred  the 
infallibility  of  the  Church ;  much  less,  of  any  particular 
Church ;  and  least  of  all,  the  infallibility  of  any  particular 
man. 

It  is  manifest  therefore,  that  Christian  men  do  not 
know,  but  only  believe  the  Scripture  to  be  the  word  of 
God ;  and  that  the  means  of  making  them  believe,  which 
God  is  pleased  to  afford  men  ordinarily,  is  according  to 
the  way  of  nature,  that  is  to  say,  from  their  teachers.  It  is 
the  doctrine  of  St.  Paul  concerning  Christian  faith  in  gen- 
eral {Rom.  X.  17),  Faith  cometh  by  hearing,  that  is,  by 


WHAT  NECESSARY  TO  SALVATION 


361 


hearing  our  lawful  pastors.  He  saith  also,  (verses  14,  15, 
of  the  same  chapter),  How^shall  they  believe  m  htm   of 
whom  they  have  not  heard?  and  how  shall  they  hear  with- 
out a  preacher?  and  how  shall  they  preach,  except  they  be 
sent?    Whereby  it  is  evident,  that  the  ordinary  cause  of 
believing  that  the  Scriptures  are  the  word  of  God,  is  the 
same  with  the  cause  of  the  believing  of  all  other  articles 
of  our  faith,  namely,  the  hearing  of  those  that  are  by  the 
law  allowed  and  appointed  to  teach  us,  as  our  parents 
in  their  houses,  and  our  pastors  in  the  churches     Which 
also  is  made  more  manifest  by  experience.     For  what 
other  cause  can  there  be  assigned,  why  in  Christian  com- 
monwealths all  men  either  believe,  or  at  least  profess 
the  Scripture  to  be  the  word  of  God,  and  in  other  com- 
monwealths  scarce  any;  but  that  in  Christian  common- 
wealths they  are  taught  it  from  their  infancy;  and  m 
other  places  they  are  taught  otherwise? 

But  if  teaching  be  the  cause  of  faith,  why  do  not  all 
believe^    It  is  certain  therefore  that  faith  is  the  gift  of 
God,  and  he  giveth  it  to  whom  he  will.    Nevertheless, 
because  to  them  to  whom  he  giveth  it,  he  giveth  it  by 
the  means  of  teachers,  the  immediate  cause  of  faith  is 
hearing.    In  a  school,  where  many  are  taught,  and  some 
profit,  others  profit  not,  the  cause  of  learnmg  m  them 
that  profit,  is  the  master;  yet  it  cannot  be  thence  mf erred, 
that  learning  is  not  the  gift  of  God.    All  good  things  pro- 
ceed  from  God ;  yet  cannot  all  that  have  them,  say  they 
are  inspired;  for  that  implies  a  gift  supernatural    and 
the  immediate  hand  of  God ;  which  he  that  pretends  to, 
pretends  to  be  a  prophet,  and  is  subject  to  the  examin- 
ation of  the  Church.  . 

Brt  whether  mtnknow,OT  believe,  or  grant  the  Scrip- 
tures to  be  the  word  of  God;  if  out  of  such  places  of 
them,  as  are  without  obscurity.  I  shall  show  what  articles 


362 


LEVIATHAN 


WHAT  NECESSARY  TO  SALVATION 


363 


of  faith  are  necessary,  and  only  necessary  for  salvation, 
those  men  must  needs  knozv,  believe,  or  grant  the  same. 

The  unum  necessarium,  only  article  of  faith,  which 
the  Scripture  maketh  simply  necessary  to  salvation^Jis- 
this,  thatjESusjsj:H£jCHRi^  By  the  name  of  Christ 
IS  understood  the  king,  which  God  had  before  promised 
by  the  prophets  of  the  Old  Testament,  to  send  into  the 
world,  to  reign  (over  the  Jews,  and  over  such  of  other 
nations  as  should  believe  in  him),  under  himself  eternally ; 
and  to  give  them  that  eternal  life,  which  was  lost  by  the 
sin  of  Adam.  Which  when  I  have  proved  out  of  Scrip- 
ture, I  will  further  show  when,  and  in  what  sense,  some 
other  articles  may  be  also  called  necessary. 


But  a  man  may  here  ask,  whether  it  be  not  as  nec- 
essary to  salvation,  to  believe,  that  God  is  omnipotent; 
Creator  of  the  world ;  that  Jesus  Christ  is  risen ;  and  that 
all  men  else  shall  rise  again  from  the  dead  at  the  last  day ; 
as  to  believe  that  Jesus  is  the  Christ.  To  which  I  answer, 
they  are;  and  so  are  many  more  articles:  but  they  are 
such,  as  are  contained  in  this  one,  and  may  be  deduced 
from  it,  with  more  or  less  difficulty.  For  who  is  there 
that  does  not  see,  that  they  who  believe  Jesus  to  be  the 
Son  of  the  God  of  Israel,  and  that  the  Israelites  had  for 
God  the  Omnipotent  Creator  of  all  things,  do  therein  also 
believe,  that  God  is  the  Omnipotent  Creator  of  all  things  ? 
Or  how  can  a  man  believe,  that  Jesus  is  the  king  that  shall 
reign  eternally,  unless  he  believe  him  also  risen  again  from 
the  dead?  For  a  dead  man  cannot  exercise  the  office  of 
a  king.  In  sum,  he  that  holdeth  this  foundation,  Jesus 
is  the  Christ,  holdeth  expressly  all  that  he  seeth  rightly 
deduced  from  it,  and  implicitly  all  that  is  consequent 
thereunto,  though  he  have  not  skill  enough  to  discern  the 


consequence.  And  therefore  it  holdeth  still  good,  that 
the  belief  of  this  one  article  is  sufficient  faith  to  obtain 
remission  of  sins  to  the  penitent,  and  consequently  to  bring 
them  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Seeing  then  it  is  necessary  that  faith  and  obedience, 
implied  in  the  word  repentance,  do  both  concur  to  our 
salvation;  the  question  by  which  of  the  two  we  are  jus- 
tified, is  impertinently  disputed.  Nevertheless,  it  will 
not  be  impertinent,  to  make  manifest  in  what  manner 
each  of  them  contributes  thereunto;  and  in  what  sense 
it  is  said,  that  we  are  to  be  justified  by  the  one,  and  by 
the  other.  And  first,  if  by  righteousness  be  understood 
the  justice  of  the  works  themselves,  there  is  no  man  that 
can  be  saved ;  for  there  is  none  that  hath  not  transgressed 
the  law  of  God.  And  therefore  when  we  are  said  to  be 
justified  by  works,  it  is  to  be  understood  of  the  will, 
which  God  doth  ah^ays  accept  for  the  work  itself,  as 
well  in  good,  as  in  evil  men.  And  in  this  sense  only 
it  is,  that  a  man  is  called  just,  or  unjust;  and  that  his 
justice  justifies  him,  that  is,  gives  him  the  title,  in  God's 
acceptation,  of  just;  and  renders  him  capable  of  living  by 
his  faith,  which  before  he  was  not.  So  that  justice  jus- 
tifies in  that  sense,  in  which  to  justify,  is  the  same  as  that 
to  denominate  a  man  just;  and  not  in  the  signification  of 
discharging  the  law;  whereby  the  punishment  of  his 
sins  should  be  unjust. 

But  a  man  is  then  also  said  to  be  justified,  when  his 
plea,  though  in  itself  insufficient,  is  accepted;  as  when 
we  plead  our  will,  our  endeavour  to  fulfil  the  law,  and 
repent  us  of  our  failings,  and  God  accepteth  it  for  the 
performance  itself.  And  because  God  accepteth  not  the 
will  for  the  deed,  but  only  in  the  faithful ;  it  is  therefore 


tl 


yn 


LEVIATHAN 


faith  that  makes  good  our  plea ;  and  in  this  sense  it  is, 
that  faith  only  justifies.  So  that  faith  and  obedience  zrt 
both  necessary  to  salvation ;  yet  in  several  senses  each  of 

them  is  said  to  justify.  . 

Having  thus  shown  what  is  necessary  to  salvation; 
it  is  not  hard  to  reconcile  our  obedience  to  God,  with 
our  obedience  to  the  civil  sovereign ;  who  is  either  Oins- 
tian,  or  infidel.    If  he  be  a  Christian,  he  alloweth  the  belief 
of  this  article,  that  Jesus  is  the  Christ;  and  of  all  the 
articles  that  are  contained  in,  or  are  by  evident  conse- 
qaence  deduced  from  it:  which  is  all  the  faith  necessary 
to  salvation.    And  because  he  is  a  sovereign,  he  requir- 
eth  obedience  to  all  his  own,  that  is,  to  all  the  civil  laws; 
in  which  also  are  contained  all  the  laws  of  nature,  that 
is  all  the  laws  of  God :  for  besides  the  laws  of  nature,  and 
the  laws  of  the  Church,  which  are  part  of  the  civil  law, 
(for  the  Church  that  can  make  laws  is  the  common- 
wealth),   there  be  no  other  laws  divine.      Whosoever 
therefore  obey^th  his  Christian  sovereign,  is  not  thereby 
hindered,  neither  from  believing,  nor  from  obeying  God. 
But  suppose  that  a  Christian  king  should  from  this  foun- 
dation Jesus  is  the  Christ,  draw  some  false  consequences, 
that  is  to  say,  make  some  superslructions  of  hay  or  stub- 
ble, and  command  the  teaching  of  the  same;  yet  seeing 
St  Paul  says  he  shall  be  saved ;  much  more  shall  he  be 
saved,  that  teacheth  them  by  his  command;  and  much 
more  yet,  he  that  teaches  not,  but  only  believes  his  lawful 
teacher.     And  in  case  a  subject  be  forbidden  by  the 
civil  sovereign  to  profess  some  of  those  his  opinions,  upon 
what  just  ground  can  he  disobey?    Christian  kings  may 
err  in  deducing  a  consequence,  but  who  shall  judge?  Shall 
a  private  man  judge,  when  the  question  is  of  his  own 
obedience?     Or  shall  any  man  judge  but  he  that  is  ap- 
pointed thereto  by  the  Church,  that  is,  by  the  civil  sov- 


WHAT  NECESSARY  TO  SALVATION 


365: 


ereign  that  representeth  it?  Or  if  the  pope,  or  an  apostle 
judge,  may  he  not  err  in  deducing  of  a  consequence? 
Did  not  one  of  the  two,  St.  Peter  or  St.  Paul,  err  in  a 
superstructure,  when  St.  Paul  withstood  St.  Peter  to  his 
face?  There  can  tli^rpfnrejy  no  contradiction  betwegL.. 
the  laws  oll^^od,  anOETlaws  of  a  Christian_common- 

wealth*  .  ^^  , 

And  when  the  civil  sovereign  is  an  infidel,  every  one 

of  his  own  subjects  that  resisteth  him,  sinneth  against 
the  laws  of  God,  (for  such  are  the  laws  of  nature),   and 
rejecteth  the  counsel  of  the  apostles,  that  admonisheth 
all  Christians  to  obey  their  princes,  and  all  children  and 
servants  to  obey  their  parents  and  masters  in  all  things. 
And  for  their  faith,  it  is  internal,  and  invisible ;  they  have 
the  license  that  Naaman  had,  and  need  not  put  themselves 
into  danger  for  it.    But  if  they  do,  they  ought  to  expect 
their  reward  in  heaven,  and  not  complain  of  their  lawful 
sovereign ;  much  less  make  war  upon  him.    For  he  that  is 
not  glad  of  any  just  occasion  of  martyrdom,  has  not  the 
faith  he  professeth,  but  pretends  it  only,  to  set  some  colour 
upon  his  own  contumacy.     But  what  infidel  king  is  so 
unreasonable,  as  knowing  he  has  a  subject,  that  waiteth 
for  the  second  coming  of  Christ,  after  the  present  world 
shall  be  burnt,  and  intendeth  then  to  obey  him,  (which 
is  the  intent  of  believing  that  Jesus  is  the  Christ,)  and  in. 
the  mean  time  thinketh  himself  bound  to  obey  the  laws  of 
that  infidel  king,   (which  all  Christians  are  obliged  m 
conscience  to  do),  to  put  to  death  or  to  persecute  such 
a  subject?* 


*Comoare  Philosophical  Rudiments,  (M.  II.  3i4)-  "By 
what  hXbeen  said  hitherto,  it  will  be  easy  to  discern  what  the 
Itil^  of  Christian  subjects  is  towards  their  sovereigns;  who,  as 
foni  as  thryprofess'  themselves  Christians,,  cannot  command 
thefr  subject^s  to  deny  Christ,  or  to  offer  him  any  contumely. 


il 


'  f 


'4 


3» 


LEVIATHAN 


And  thus  much  shall  suffice,  concerning  the  kingdom 
of  God,  and  policy  ecclesiastical.  Wherein  I  pretend  not 
to  advance  any  position  of  my  own,  but  only  to  show  what 
are  the  consequences  that  seem  to  me  deducible  from  the 
principles  of  Christian  politics,  (which  are  the  holy  Scrip- 
tures )  in  confirmation  of  the  power  of  civil  sovereigns, 
and  the  duty  of  their  subjects.  And  in  the  allegation 
of  Scripture,  I  have  endeavoured  to  avoid  such  texts 
as  are  of  obscure  or  controverted  interpretation ;  and  to 
allege  none,  but  in  such  sense  as  is  most  plain,  and  agree- 
able to  the  harmony  and  scope  of  the  whole  Bible ;  which 


for  if  they  should  command  this,  they  would  profess  themselves 
o  be  no^hristians.  For  seeing  we  have  showed,  both  by  nat- 
ural reason  and  out  of  holy  Scriptures,  that  ^objects  ought  m 
all  thines  to  obey  their  princes  and  governors,  excepting  those 
which  are  contrary  to  the  command  of  God;  and  that  the  com- 
Snds  of  God,  in  a  Christian  city,  concerning  »^m/.of a/  affam. 
r^t  U  Jo  «v  those  which  are  to  be  discussed  by  human  reason, 
arfthe  Uws'knd  senTence  of  the  city,  delivered  from  those  wto 
have  recehJ^d  authority  from,  the  city  to  -"^^^elaws  and  judge 

^^rslrTto^-ti^sTb?  rS  "^p^^Bi 

^r-'T  a°nV^Vhli^ch*''«  '*  **  ^^•\«  th^rrl;;  &), 
S'ed  by  Vs^'r s^awf"Jl*  ordained,  and  who  have  to  that  end 
authority  given  them  by  the  city ;  it  mamfestly  follows,  that  in 

rSaf  commonweal  obedience  is  d"^*"  ^^^^'/.^^^Xd 
tliincre  as  well  sbirituol  as  temporal.  And  that  the  same  ooeai 
ence  Venll  a  Sian  subject,  is  due  in  al  temporal  mat^ 
<J^?  to  those  princes  who  are  no  Christians,  is  without  any  con- 
troversy "but  in  matters  spiritual,  that  h  to  say,  those  things 
wh[ch  wncem  God's  worship,  some  Christian  .Ch«r*  f.  *»  ^,f 
followed  For  it  is  an  hypothesis  of  the  Christian  faith,  that 
^Tptks  not  in  things  supernatural  but  by  the  Tjjfy  <>«  Oiristian 
interpreters  of  holy  Scriptures.  But  what?  Mu^t.^^.'^'/'?' 
princes,  when  we  cannot  obey  them?  Truly,  no,  for  this  is 
contrfrV  to  our  civil  covenant.  What  must  we  do  then?  Go 
to  Christ  by  martyrdom:  which  if  it  seem  to  any  man  to  be  a 
hard  sK  most  certain  it  is  that  he  believes  not  .with  his 
whole  ™  that  Jesus  is  the  Christ  the  son  of  *l^  ^^^^od; 
for  he  would  then  desire  to  be  dissolved,  and  to  be  with  Chnst , 
but  he  w°uld  b^a  feigtied  Christian  faith  elude  that  obedience, 
which  he  hath  contracted  to  yield  unto  the  aty. 


WHAT  NECESSARY  TO  SALVATION 


367 


- 


was  written  for  the  re-establishment  of  the  kingdom  of 
God  in  Christ.  For  it  is  not  the  bare  words,  but  the  scope 
of  the  writer,  that  giveth  the  true  Hght,  by  which  any  writ- 
ing is  to  be  interpreted ;  and  they  that  insist  upon  single 
texts,  without  considering  the  main  design,  can  derive 
nothing  from  them  clearly ;  but  rather  by  casting  atoms 
of  Scripture,  as  dust  before  men's  eyes,  make  every  thing 
more  obscure  than  it  is ;  an  ordinary  artifice  of  those  that 
seek  not  the  truth,  but  their  own  advantage. 


CONXLUSION    . 


369 


A  REVIEW  AND  CONCLUSION. 

From  the  contrariety  of  some  of  the  natural  faculties  of 
the  mind,  one  to  another,  as  also  of  one  passion  to  another, 
and  from  their  reference  to  conversation,  there  has  been 
an  argument  taken,  to  infer  an  impossibility  that  any 
one  man  should  be  sufficiently  disposed  to  all  sorts  of 
civil  duty.    The  severity  of  judgment,  they  say,  makes 
men  censorious,  and  unapt  to  pardon  the  errors  and  m- 
firmities  of  other  men:  and  on  the  other  side,  celerity  -f 
fancy,  makes  the  thoughts  less  steady  than  is  necessary, 
to  discern  exactly  between  right  and  wrong.    Again,  in 
all  deliberations,  and  in  all  pleadings,  the  faculty  of  solid 
reasoning  is  necessary :  for  without  it,  the  resolutions 
of  men  are  rash,  and  their  sentences  unjust:  and  yet  if 
there  be  not  powerful  eloquence,  which  procureth  atten- 
tion and  consent.- the  effect  of  reason  will  be  little.    But 
these  are  contrary  faculties ;  the  former  being  grounded 
upon  principles  of  truth;  the  other  upon  opinions  already 
received,  true  or  false ;  and  upon  the  passions  and  interests 
of  men,  which  are  diflferent,  and  mutable. 

And  amongst  the  passions,  courage,  (by  which  I  mean 
the  contempt  of  wounds,  and  violent  death)  inclmeth 
men  to  private  revenges,  and  sometimes  to  endeavour 
the  unsettling  of  the  public  peace:  and  Hmorousness, 
many  times  disposeth  to  the  desertion  of  the  public  de- 
fence.    Both  these,  they  say,  cannot  stand  together  m 

the  same  person.  ,       ■  •  a 

And  to  consider  the  contrariety  of  men  s  opmions,  and 
manners,  in  general,  it  is,  they  say,  impossible  to  entertain 
a  constant  civil  amity  with  all  those,  with  whom  the 
business  of  the  world  constrains  us  to  converse :  which 


business  consisteth  almost  in  nothing  else  but  a  perpetual 
contention  for  honour,  riches,  and  authority 

To  which  I  answer,  that  these  are  indeed  great  diffi- 

t^  SancT-;  have  place  in  the  same  man  -b. 
by  turns ;  as  the  end  which  he  aimeth  at  ;«!">«*•    ^^J 
Israelites  in  Eg)'pt.  were  sometimes  fastened  to  their 
Sbou    of  makifg  bricks,  and  other  times  were  ..ngmg 
Xoad  to  gather  straw:  so  also  may  the  judgment  some- 
toes  btfi^ed  upon  one  certain  consideration,  and  Ae 
?aTcy  at  another'time  wandering  about  the  world.    So 
S^reason,  and  eloquence,  though  -t  pe«^aps  m  * 
natural  sciences,  yet.  in  the  moral,  may  ^t^J^/^jy^^" 
together     For  wheresoever  there  is  place  for  adorning 
S  preferring  of  error,  there  is  much  more  place  for 
Sorn'ng  and  preferring  of  truth,  if  they  have  it  to  ado™ 
Mnr  is  Aere  any  repugnancy  between  fearing  the   aws, 
fnd  n^t SrinTa  pub£ enemy;  nor  between  abj« 
from  injury,  and  pardoning  it  in  others.    There  is  there 
f^no  such  incon^stence  of  human  nature,  w'th"vd  ju- 
ries as  some  think.  I  have  known  clearness  of  ifs^^'f' 
SlargLss-of  fancy;  strength  of  -on  ^rui  gi^cdu^ 
elocution  •  a  courage  for  the  war,  and  a  fear  for  the  laws 
aS "imminently  in  one  man ;  and  that  was  my  most  noble 
a^d  hLred  friend,  Mr.  Sidney  Godolphin ;  who  hating 
no  Z  nor  hated  of  any,  was  unfortunate  y  slam  in  the 
SgTnlg  of  the  late  civil  war,  in  the  public  quarrel,  by 
an  undiscemed  and  an  undiscerning  hand 

T^  tiip  T  aws  of  Nature.  declaredm_Uiagt£r,x¥:__i_ 

wouirSnrsad^dlXT^^Jo^^^        ".f  «7' 

rS^^OTnTT^ffi,  to  protect  in  war  the  authorrty  by 
ZZhTis  himself  protected  in  time  of  peace.  For  he 
That  pretendeth  a  right  of  nature  to  preserve  his  own  body. 


[ 


370 


LEVIATHAN 


CONCLUSION 


m 


cannot  pretend  a  right  of  nature  to  destroy  him,  by  whose 
strength  he  is  preserved :  it  is  a  manifest  contradiction  of 
himself.  And  though  this  law  may  be  drawn  by  conse- 
quence, from  some  of  those  that  are  there  already  men- 
tioned ;  yet  the  times  require  to  have  it  inculcated,  and 

remembered. 

And  because  I  find  by  divers  English  books  lately 
printed,  that  the  civil  wars  have  not  yet  sufficiently  taught 
men  in  what  point  of  time  it  is,  that  a  subject  becomes 
obliged  to  the  conqueror ;  nor  what  is  conquest ;  nor  how 
it  comes  about,  that  it  obliges  men  to  obey  his  laws :  there- 
fore for  further  satisfaction  of  men  therein,  I  say,  the 
point  of  time,  wherein  a  man  becomes  subject  to  a  con- 
queror, is  that  point,  wherein  having  liberty  to  submit 
to  him,  he  consenteth,  either  by  express  words,  or  by  other 
sufficient  sign,  to  be  his  subject.     When  it  is  that  a  man 
hath  the  liberty  to  submit,  I  have  showed  before  in  the 
end  of  Chapter  xxL ;  namely,  that  for  him  that  hath  no 
obligation  to  his  former  sovereign  but  that  of  an  ordinary 
subject,  it  is  then,  when  the  means  of  his  life  are  within 
the  guards  and  garrisons  of  the  enemy ;  for  it  is  then,  that 
he  hath  no  longer  protection  from  him,  but  is  protected  by 
the  adverse  party  for  his  contribution.    Seeing  therefore 
such  contribution  is  every  where,  as  a  thing  inevitable, 
notwithstanding  it  be  an  assistance  to  the  enemy,  esteemed 
lawful ;  a  total  submission,  which  is  but  an  assistance  to 
the  enemy,  cannot  be  esteemed  unlawful.     Besides,  if 
a  man  consider  that  they  who  submit,  assist  the  enemy  but 
with  part  of  their  estates,  whereas  they  that  refuse,  assist 
him  with  the  whole,  there  is  no  reason  to  call  their  sub- 
mission, or  composition,  an  assistance ;  but  rather  a  detri- 
ment to  the  enemy.    But  if  a  man,  besides  the  obligation 
of  a  subject,  hath  taken  upon  him  a  new  obligation  of 
a  soldier,  then  he  hath  not  the  liberty  to  submit  to  a  new 


power,  as  long  as  the  old  one  keeps  the  field,  and  givetb 
him  means  of  subsistence,  either  in  his  armies,  or  gar- 
risons: for  in  this  case,  he  cannot  complain  of  want  of 
protection,  and  means  to  live  as  a  soldier.    But  when  that 
also  fails,  a  soldier  also  may  seek  his  protection  where- 
soever he  has  most  hope  to  have  it;  and  may  lawfully 
submit  himself  to  his  new  master.    And  so  much  for  the 
time  when  he  may  do  it  lawfully,  if  he  will.    If  therefore 
he  do  it,  he  is  undoubtedly  bound  to  be  a  true  subject:  for 
a  contract  lawfully  made,  cannot  lawfully  be  broken. 
By  this  also  a  man  may  understand,  when  it  is,  that 
men  mav  be  said  to  be  conquered ;  and  in  what  the  nature 
of  conquest,  and  the  right  of  a  conqueror  consisteth:  for 
this  submission  in  itself  implieth  them  alL^nques^s^ 
the  victorvitselfibuUheacqu^^ 
over  thepersons  oG^^^^T^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^  '^  ^^^^^^  ^' 
o-^ome,but  noT^SSiSiTed  :he  that  is  taken, and  put  into 
prison,  or  chains,  is  not  conquered,  though  overcome;  for 
he  is  still  an  enemy,  and  may  save  himself  if  he  can:  but 
he  that  upon  promise  of  obedience,  hath  his  life  and  liberty 
allowed  him,  is  then  conquered,  and  a  subject;  and  not 
before     The  Romans  used  to  say,  that  their  general  had 
pacined  such  a  province,  that  is  to  say,  in  English,  con- 
quered it;  and  that  the  country  was  pacxHed  by  victory, 
when  the  people  of  it  had  promised  imperatafa^ere,  that 
is   to  do  what  the  Roman  people  commanded  them:  tms 
was  to  be  conquered.    But  this  promise  may  be  either  ex- 
press, or  tacit:  express,  by  promise:  tacit,  by  other  signs. 
As  for  example,  a  man  that  hath  not  been  called  to  make 
such  an  express  promise,  because  he  is  one  whose  power 
perhaps  is  not  considerable;  yet  if  he  live  under  their  pro- 
tection openly,  he  is  understood  to  submit  himself  to  the 
government:  but  if  he  live  there  secretly,  he  is  liable  to 
anything  that  may  be  done  to  a  spy,  and  enemy  of  the 


37J  LEVIATHAN 

state.  I  say  not,  he  does  any  injustice;  for  acts  of  open 
hostility  bear  not  that  name;  but  that  he  may  be  justly 
put  to  death.  Likewise,  if  a  man,  when  his  country  is 
conquered,  be  out  of  it,  he  is  not  conquered,  nor  subject: 
but  if  at  his  return,  he  submit  to  the  government,  he  is 
bound  to  obey  it.  So  that  conquest,  to  define  it,  is  the  ac- 
quiring of  the  right  of  sovereignty  by  victory.  Which 
right,  is  acquired  in  the  people^s  submission,  by  which  they 
contract  with  the  victor,  promising  obedience  for  life  and 

liberty. 

In  Chapter  xxix,  I  have  set  down  for  one  of  the  causes 
of  the  dissolutions  of  commonwealths,  their  imperfect 
generation,  consisting  in  the  want  of  an  absolute  and 
arbitrary  legislative  power;  for  want  whereof,  the  civil 
sovereign  is  fain  to  handle  the  sword  of  justice  uncon- 
stantly,  and  as  if  it  were  too  hot  for  him  to  hold.    One 
reason  whereof,  which  I  have  not  there  mentioned,  is  this, 
that  they  will  all  of  them  justify  the  war,  by  which  their 
power  was  at  first  gotten,  and  whereon,  as  they  think, 
their  right  dependeth,  and  not  on  the  possession.    As  if, 
for  example,  the  right  of  the  kings  of  England  did  depend 
on  the  goodness  of  the  cause  of  William  the  Conqueror, 
and  lipon  their  lineal,  and  directest  descent  from  him ;  by 
which  means,  there  would  perhaps  be  no  tie  of  the  sub- 
jects' obedience  to  their  sovereign  at  this  day  in  all  the 
world:  wherein  whilst  thy  needlessly  think  to  justify 
themselves,  they  justify  all  the  successful  rebellions  that 
ambition  shall  at  any  time  raise  against  them,  and  their 
successors.    Therefore  I  put  down  for  one  of  the  most 
effectual  seeds  of  the  death  of  any  state,  that  the  conquer- 
ors require  not  only  a  submission  of  men's  actions  to  them 
for  the  future,  but  also  an  approbation  of  all  their  actions 
past ;  when  there  is  scarce  a  commonwealth  in  the  world, 
whose  beginnings  can  in  conscience  be  justified. 


CONCLUSION 


373 


11 


t 


And  because  the  name  of  tyranny,  signifieth  nothing 

„..r  l«s    than  the  name  of  sovereignty,  be  it  m 
more,  nor  less,  than  tne  ^^^^^ 

one,  or  --^ -^"'JH/bl  ^gry' S  them  they  call 
r/a^l  rhtrrtr^oVa  professed  hatred  of 
vrannv    is  a  toleration  of  hatred  to  commonwealth  m 
lenS'  and  another  evil  seed,  not  differing  much  from 
fhe  former.     For  to  the  justification  of  the  cause  of  a 
cona«er"r  the  reproach  of  the  cause  of  the  conquered,  .s 
S:  most  part  Lessary :  but  "either  of  them  nec^^^^^^ 
for  the  obligation  of  the  conquered.     A"^  *hus  much  1 
have  thought  fit  to  say  upon  the  review  of  the  first 
second  part  of  this  discourse.  ,      .    ,      a  „„»  „* 

In  Chapter  xxxv,  I  have  sufficiently  declared  out  of 
the  Scripture  that  in  the  commonwealth  of  the  Jews.  God 
tSZ  made  the  sovereign,  by  P-^  with.he  Peop^^^^^ 
who  were  therefore  called  his  pecuhar  people,  to  d.stm 
edsh  them  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  over  whom  God 
fd<Sed  not  by  their  consent,  but  by  his  own  power:  and 
haf  in  tl"s  kingdom  Moses  was  God's  lieutenant  on  ear^h 
Ind  tha  it  was  he  that  told  them  what  laws  God  appomted 
them  to  be  ruled  by.    But  I  have  omitted  to  set  down  who 
we  e  the  officers  appointed  to  do  execution ;  especially  m 
;;;  "UishmenS    ^o^^^^^^^  ^XwlhS 

"^r;;  iTalltrr  aU"  il^xecutio^  corporal 

^:nisl  Jents.  was  either  put  upon  the  guards,  or  oth  r 

Soldiers  of  the  sovereign  power ;  or  given  to  those    in 

whom  warn  of  means,  contempt  of  honour,  and  hardness 

Tf  h^art.  concurred,  to  make  them  sue  for  such  an  office^ 

But  am;ngst  the  Israelites  it  was  a  positive  law  of  God 

th.W  sovereien   that  he  that  was  convicted  of  a  capital 

ri^V  srouTrb'e  stoned  to  death  by  the  people ;  and  rtia 

the  witnesses  should  cast  the  first  stone,  and  after  the  wit 


CONCLUSION 


375 


374 


LEVIATHAN 


nesses,  then  the  rest  of  the  people.  This  was  a  law  that 
designed  who  were  to  be  the  executioners;  but  not  that 
any  one  should  throw  a  stone  at  him  before  conviction  and 
sentence,  where  the  congregation  was  judge.  The  wit- 
nesses were  nevertheless  to  be  heard  before  they  proceeded 
to  execution,  unless  the  fact  were  committed  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  congregation  itself,  or  in  sight  of  the  lawful 
judges ;  for  then  there  needed  no  other  witnesses  but  the 
judges  themselves.  Nevertheless,  this  manner  of  proceed- 
ing being  not  thoroughly  understood,  hath  given  occasion 
to  a  dangerous  opinion,  that  any  man  may  kill  another, 
in  some  cases,  by  a  right  of  zeal;  as  if  the  executions 
done  upon  offenders  in  the  kingdom  of  God  in  old  time, 
proceeded  not  from  the  sovereign  command,  but  from  the 
authority  of  private  zeal :  which,  if  we  consider  the  texts 
that  seem  to  favour  it,  is  quite  contrary. 

First,  where  the  Levites  fell  upon  the  people,  that  had 
made  and  worshipped  the  Golden  Calf,  and  slew  three 
thousand  of  them ;  it  was  by  the  commandment  of  Moses, 
from  the  mouth  of  God ;  as  is  manifest,  Exod.  xxxii.  2y. 
And  when  the  son  of  a  woman  of  Israel  had  blasphemed 
God,  they  that  heard  it^  did  not  kill  him,  but  brought 
him  before  Moses,  who  put  him  under  custody,  till  God 
should  give  sentence  against  him ;  as  appears,  Levit,  xxiv. 
li,  12.  Again,  (Numb.  xxv.  6,  7),  when  Phinehas  killed 
Zimri  and  Cosbi,  it  was  not  by  right  of  private  zeal :  their 
crime  was  committed  in  the  sight  of  the  assembly ;  there 
needed  no  witness;  the  law  was  known,  and  he  the  heir- 
apparent  to  the  sovereignty;  and,  which  is  the  principal 
point,  the  lawfulness  of  his  act  depended  wholly  upon  a 
subsequent  ratification  by  Moses,  whereof  he  had  no  cause 
to  doubt.  And  this  presumption  of  a  future  ratification, 
is  sometimes  necessary  to  the  safety  of  a  commonwealth ; 
as  in  a  sudden  rebellion,  any  man  that  can  suppress  it  by 


1: 


his  own  power  in  the  country  where  it  begins,  without 
express  law  or  commission,  my  lawfully  do  it,  and  provide 
to  have  it  ratified,  or  pardoned,  whilst  it  is  in  doing,  or 
after  it  is  done.  Also  Numb.  xxxv.  30,  it  is  expressly  said, 
Whosoever  shall  kill  the  murderer,  shall  kill  him  upon 
the  word  of  witnesses:  but  witnesses  suppose  a  formal 
judicature,  and  consequently  condemn  that  pretence  of 
jus  zelotarum.    The  law  of  Moses  concerning  h.m  that 
enticeth  to  idolatry,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  kingdom  of  God 
to  a  renouncing  of  his  allegiance,  {Dent.  xui.  8,  9),  for- 
bids to  conceal  him,  and  commands  the  accuser  to  cause 
him  to  be  put  to  death,  and  to  cast  the  first  stone  at  h.m ; 
but  not  to  kill  him  before  he  be  condemned.    And  {Ucut. 
xvii  4  5.  6,  7),  the  process  against  idolatry  is  exactly  set 
down :'  for  God  there  speaketh  to  the  people,  as  judge  and 
commandeth  them,  when  a  man  is  accused  of  idolatry, 
to  enquire  diligently  of  the  fact,  and  finding  it  true,  then 
to  stone  him;  but  still  the  hand  of  the  witness  throweth 
the  first  stone.    This  is  not  private  zeal,  but  public  con- 
demnation.    In  like  manner  when  a  father  hath  a  rebel- 
lious son,  the  law  is,  {Dcut.  xxi.  18-21),  that  he  shall 
bring  him  before  the  judges  of  the  town,  and  all  the  peo- 
ple of  the  town  shall  stone  him.    Lastly,  by  pretence  of 
these  laws  it  was,  that  St.  Stephen  was  stoned,  and  not  by 
pretence  of  private  zeal :  for  before  he  was  earned  away 
to  execution,  he  had  pleaded  his  cause  before  the  high- 
priest.    There  is  nothing  in  all  this,  nor  in  any  other  part 
of  the  Bible,  to  countenance  executions  by  private  zeal ; 
which  being  oftentimes  but  a  conjunction  of  ignorance 
and  passion,  is  against  both  the  justice  and  peace  of  a 

commonwealth.  j    i      j 

In  chapter  xxxvi,  I  have  said,  that  it  is  not  declared 

in  what  manner  God  spake  supematurally  to  Moses :  nor 

that  he  spake  not  to  him  sometimes  by  dreams  and  vis- 


376 


LEVIATHAN 


CONCLUSION 


377 


ions,  and  by  a  supernatural  voice,  as  to  other  prophets: 
for  the  manner  how  he  spake  unto  him  from  the  mercy- 
seat,  is  expressly  set  down,  Numbers  vii.  89,  in  these 
words.  From  that  time  foru^ard,  when  Moses  entered  into 
the  Tabernacle  of  the  congregation  to  speak  with  God, 
he  heard  a  voice  which  spake  unto  him  from  over  the 
mercy-seat,  which  is  over  the  Ark  of  the  testimony; 
from  between  the  cherubims  he  spake  unto  him.    But  it 
is  not  declared  in  what  consisteth  the  preeminence  of 
the  manner  of  God's  speaking  to  Moses,  above  that  of 
his  speaking  to  other  prophets,  as  to  Samuel,  and  to  Abra- 
ham, to  whom  he  also  spake  by  a  voice,  (that  is,  by  vis- 
ion), unless  the  difference  consist  in  the  clearness  of  the 
vision.    For  face  to  face,  and  mouth  to  mouth,  cannot  be 
literally  understood  of  the  infiniteness,  and  incomprehen- 
sibility of  the  Divine  nature. 

And  as  to  the  whole  doctrine,  I  see  not  yet,  !5ut  the 
principles  of  it  are  true  and  proper ;  and  the  ratiocination 
solid.  For  I  ground  the  civil  right  of  sovereigns,  and  both 
the  duty  and  liberty  of  subjects,  upon  the  known  natural 
inclinations  of  mankind,  and  upon  the  articles  of  the  law 
of  nature;  of  which  no  man,  that  pretends  but  reason 
enough  to  govern  his  private  family,  ought  to  be  igno- 
rant. And  for  the  power  ecclesiastical  of  the  same  sov- 
ereigns, I  ground  it  on  such  texts,  as  are  both  evident  in 
themselves,  and  consonant  to  the  scope  of  the  whole  Scrip- 
ture. And  therefore  am  persuaded,  that  he  that  shall 
read  it  with  a  purpose  only  to  be  informed,  shall  be 
informed  by  it.  But  for  those  that  by  writing,  or  public 
discourse,  or  bv  their  eminent  actions,  have  already  en- 
gaged  themselves  to  the  maintaining  of  contrary  opin- 
ions, they  will  not  be  so  easily  satisfied.  For  in  such 
cases,  it  is  natural  for  men,  at  one  and  the  same  time, 
both  to  proceed  in  reading,  and  to  lose  their  attention,  in 


1; 


the  search  of  objections  to  that  they  had  read  before.    Of 
wHcTf  a  time  wherein  the  interests  of  -n  are  ch^^^^^^^ 
Tseeinc  much  of  that  doctrine,  which  serveth  to  the  es 
Sng  of  a  new  government,  must  needs  be  con  r^  ^ 
that  which  conduced  to  the  dissolution  of  the  old), 

'Tttr;:'"  hfch'trerof  a  Oinstian  common- 
J*.  thrrare  some  new  doctrines,  whjh,.ma^^^^^ 
Ta  s  ate  where  the  contrary  were  already  ify/f' 
Led  werla  fault  for  a  subject  without  leave  to  d.vu^e^ 
rt^;g  an  usurpation  of  the  Pj-e  f  ^^^^^^^^^^^  ^,^0" 
this  time,  that  men  call  not  only  ^o'"  P^f=^'  ^        ^  that 

to  offer  new  wme,  to  be  put  mto  new 

when  novelty  can  breed  no  trouble  nor  u  ^ 

„en  are  not  generally  so  much  -''-J/^  ^^^t^^^^^^^^^ 
antiquity,  as  to  prefer  ancient  errors,  before  n 

-Xt  tl. .  «„«  -  ^^^^^ 

which  nevertheless  I^!!!-Ea5**.?Xtoenegleet- 
diances  of  the  pre-s.  isootobscm..   That  I  l»ve  t,e6 

ed  the  ornament  o(  quoting  anc.ent  P";%°"'»'''  " 
•phiiosophets,  '-»7,;;>>„nT^.S  ttir.;  Hr-  \ 

S  inlt%  -  -a,  ^h,  .a„^  in  ,»^ 

tion  are  not  of  /acf,  but  oi^i    >  ^,^  ^^,. 

place  for  wttrusses.  There  is  scarce  any 

ers   that  contradicteth  not  sometimes  both  himseit  an 


378 


'  LEVIATHAN  ^  /^V^t^^^t^W/^ 


Others ;  which  makes  their  testimonies  insuflficient.  Fourth- 
ly, such  opinions  as  are  taken  only  upon  credit  of  antiqui- 
ty, are  not  intrinsically  the  judgment  of  those  that  cite 
them,  but  words  that  pass,  like  gaping,  from  mouth  to 
mouth.  Fifthly,  it  is  many  times  with  a  fraudulent  design 
that  men  stick  their  corrupt  doctrine  with  the  cloves  of 
other  men's  wit.  Sixthly,  I  find  not  that  the  ancients  they 
cite,  took  it  for  an  ornament,  to  do  the  like  with  those 
that  wrote  before  them.  Seventhly,  it  is  an  argument  of 
indigestion,  when  Greek  and  Latin  sentences  unchewed 
come  up  again,  as  they  used  to  do,  unchanged.  Lastly, 
though  I  reverence  those  men  of  ancient  time,  that  either 
have  written  truth  perspicuously,  or  set  us  in  a  better 
way  to  find  it  out  ourselves;  yet  to  the  antiquity  it- 
self  I  think  nothing  due.  For  if  we  will  reverence  the 
age,  the  present  is  the  oldest.  If  the  antiquity  of  the 
writer,  I  am  not  sure,  that  generally  they  to  whom  such 
honour  is  given,  were  more  ancient  when  they  wrote, 
than  I  am  that  am  writing.  But  if  it  be  well  considered, 
the  praise  of  ancient  authors,  proceeds  not  from  the  rev- 
erence of  the  dead,  but  from  the  competition,  and  mutual 
envy  of  the  living. 

To  conclude,  <^Wj>  fc  nr>tViingr  in  fhis  ^yholgjiigg^m'Sg' 

nor  in  that  I  writ  before  of  the  same  subject  in  Latin,  as 
far  as  I  can  perceive,  contrarv  eitherto  the  Word,^ 


^d,  or  tq^gQQd.jTia:  

public  tr^nqir'lity     Thf ^^^^^^  T  th^':;;]fj^j^v  hfT^ofit- 

ably  printed,  and  more  profitably  taught  In  iheUni- 
versities,  in  case  they  also  think  so,  to  whom  the  judg- 
ment of  the  same  belongeth.  For  seeing  the  Universities 
are  the  fountains  of  civil  and  moral  doctrine,  from  whence 
the  preachers,  and  the  gentry,  drawing  such  water  as 
they  find,  use  to  sprinkle  the  same  (both  from  the  pul- 
pit and  in  their  conversation),  upon  the  people,  there 


t^w 
^^P 


/ 


VJ 


CONCLUSION 


379 


ought  certainly  to  be  great  care  taken,  to  have  it  pure, 
both  from  the  venom  of  heathen  politicians,  and  from  the 
incantation  of  deceiving  spirits.  And  by  that  means 
the  most  men,  knowing  their  duties,  will  be  the  less  sub- 
ject to  serve  the  ambition  of  a  few  discontented  per- 
sons, in  their  purposes  against  the  state;  and  be  the  less 
grieved  with  the  contributions  necessary  for  their  peace, 
and  defence;  and  the  governors  themselves  have  the 
less  cause,  to  maintain  at  the  common  charge  any  great- 
er army,  than  is  necessary  to  make  good  the  public  lib- 
erty, against  the  invasions  and  encro«ichments  of  foreign 
enemies. 

And  thus  I  have  brought  to  an  endjny  Discourse  of 
Civil  and  Ecclesiastical  Government,  occasioned  hy  the 
disorders  of  the  present  time,  without  partiality,  without 
application,  and  without  other  desi^  than  to  set  before 
inen's  eyes  the  mutual  relation  between  protection  and 
obedience ;  of  which  the  condition  of  human  nature, 
and  the  laws  divine,  both  natural  and  positive,  require  an 
inviolable  observation.  And  though  in  the  revolution  of 
states,  there  can  be  no  very  good  constellation  for  truths 
of  this  nature  to  be  born  under,  (as  having  an  angry 
aspect  from  the  dissolvers  of  an  old  government,  and 
seeing  but  the  backs  of  them  that  erect  a  new),  yet  I 
cannot  think  it  will  be  condemned  at  this  time,  either  by 
the  public  judge  of  doctrine,  or  by  any  that  desires  the 
continuance  of  public  peace.  And  in  this  hope  I^j;etum^ 
tg^my  interrupted  speculation  of  bodies  natural:  wherein, 
if  God  give  me  health  to  finish  it,  I  hope  the  novelty 
will  as  much  please,  as  in  the  doctrine  of  this  artificial 
body  it  useth  to  offend.  For  such  truth,  as  opposeth 
no  man's  profit,  nor  pleasure,  is  to  all  men  welcome. 


t 


INDEX 


Note:  References  to  the  Notes  usually  include  the  text. 


Abstract  names,  26n.,  28f .,  127. 
Abstraction,  accidents  not  capable 
of,  29f. 
definition  of,  30, 
Absurdity,  causes  of,  136. 
definition   of,   135,   191. 
in  reasoning.  24. 
like   injustice,   254,   295. 
Accidents,   abstraction  of.    impos- 
sible, 29f. 
but  apparitions,  100. 
causes  of  conceptions  and  name«, 

29. 
contingent,  61n. 
definition  of,   29.  42n. 
method  or  seeking,   55f. 
Action,  and  passion,   mediate  and 
immediate,  57n. 
definition  and  description  of,  57n. 
Indifferent,  instituted  as  signs  or 

honor,  15n.,  353. 
voluntary,   159. 
Addition      and       subtraction       In 

thought,  4f. 
Admiration,  155. 
Afllrmation.  errors  in,  39f. 
Agent,  definition  of,  57n.f. 
Ambition,  154. 
Anger,   154. 
Angles,  doctrine  of,  excluded  from 

philosophy,  10. 
Animal  spirits,  93. 
Antecedent   of   a  proposition.    27f, 
33n. 


Antiquity,  reverence  for  377f. 
Apparent,    sometimes    opposed   to 

true.  31. 
Appearances,  and  effects,  6,  61n. 
and  things  themselves,  55. 
definition  of,  3n. 
equivalents  of,   94. 
of  sense  determined  by  motion. 
53. 
Appellations.  19f.  Bte  Names, 
alone  universal.  21. 
arbitrary,  19. 
equivocal,  22. 
Appetite,  definition  of,  143n..  145, 

inborn,  146. 
Arbitrators,  290,  305. 
Aristotle.  44,  73n.,  85,  148n.,  150n., 

302,   321. 
Arts,  demonstrable  and  indemon- 
strable, 71n. 
greatest  commodities  of  mankind, 
8. 
Astrology,  excluded  from  philoso- 
phy,   11. 
Authority,  314. 
of  God,  derived  from  his  power, 
344. 
Authors,  314f. 
Axioms,  of  Euclid.  66. 


Belief,  175,  177n. 
Benevolence,   154. 
Blushing,  157. 


582 


INDEX 


Body,  abstract  names  and  the 
properties  of,  30f. 

accidents  of,  30,  65.  See  Acci- 
dent. 

action  of,  on  each  other,  57n. 

definition  of,   29,  41n. 

fireneration  of.  the  subject  of 
philosophy,  10. 

kinds  of,  llf. 

motion  from  lucid,  98. 


Causation,     general    doctrine     of, 

56f.,    57n.f.,   218. 
Cause,  definition  of,  56f,  57n. 
efiacient,  35.  68n.,  62n. 
entire,  &8n. 
false.  74f. 
first,  how  far  discoverable,  62n., 

218. 
formal,   35,    62n. 
how  one  proposition  is  cause  of 

another,  34f. 
material,  58n. 

method  of  seeking  the,  55f. 
necessary.    57n.,    59n.,   61n.,    167, 

169. 
of  the  whole.  48,  49. 
of  the  i^ccession  of  conceptions, 

18f. 
partial,  58n. 

universal  cause  motion,  50f. 
Causes,      demonstration      possible 

only  when  causes  are  known, 

71n. 
diversity  of  effects,  60n, 
highest  and  most  universal.  50. 
ignorance  of,    213f. 
like  effects  produced  by  like,  60n. 
of  a  commonwealth,  319f. 
of  conceptions  and  names,  28,  29. 
of    concrete    names    denoted    by 

abstract  names,  29. 
of  things,  demonstration  of,  the 

aim  of  science,  67    72n. 
of  universal  and  singular  things, 
how  known,   49f. 
philosophy  the  knowldege  of,  2, 

46. 
science  of,  46f. 


Caveats,   of   concluding  from   ex» 

perience,  118n. 
Chance,  61n. 
Charity,   154. 

Children,   not   endowed   with  rea- 
son. 138. 
Cogitation,  error  of,  40. 
Cogitations,   names  signs  of,   17f., 

18n. 
Color,  and  light.  99. 
cause  of,  98f. 
not  in  object.  99. 
Commonwealth,  an  artificial  man, 
81f. 
causes  of,  319f. 
definition  of.  llf.,  828. 
how  subjects  are  released  from 

obligation  to,  326n. 
outline  of  discussion,  82. 
when    Instituted,    325f. 
Complaisance,    286,   299. 
Composition,    method  of,  47,  61. 
Computation,  definition  of,  4f. 
use  of  abstract  names  in,  30f. 
Conceptions,   clear    and     obscure, 
104n. 
coherence  of,  how  recalled,  24. 
definition,  the  explication  of,  61. 
generations    or    descriptions    of, 

51. 
how  compounded,   5f, 
many  of  the  same  thing,  20. 
names  of.  20. 

names  signs  of,  17f.,  18n.,  19f. 
necessity  of  marks  for,  14. 
succession   of,   18f. 
their  limitations.   119. 
words    to    which    none    corres- 
ponds, 25. 
Conclusion,    according   to   and   a- 
galnst  reason,   24. 
how    it   follows   from    premises. 

34f.,  36f. 
of  a  syllogism,  36f. 
Confess,  definition  of,  32n. 
Confidence,  154. 

Connexion,  of  names,  divers  kinds 
of  speech  arising  from,  26. 
signs  of,  in  a  proposition.  27f. 
Conquest,   372. 


INDEX 


383 


Conscience,  174n. 

Consequence,   In  propositions,    32f. 

or  repugnance,   names  showing, 
ISn. 
Consequent,     or     predicate     of     a 

proposition,   27f.,   33n. 
Consider,  definition  of,  6. 
Construction,  petitions  or  postulata 

principles   of,   67. 
Contempt.    146. 

Contingency,    a   defect    in   knowl- 
edge.  170. 
Contingent,  61n.,  170. 
Contract,    cannot   be   annulled    by 
consent  of  contractors,  329i:k. 

definition  of,   256,   270. 

in  general,  251f. 

obligation   derived   from,    254n. 

signs  of,  257. 

when   invalid.   274f. 

See  Covenant. 
Controversy,    importance    of    defi- 
nitions In,  69. 
Contumely,  287.  301. 
Copula,     abstract    names    proceed 
from.  30. 

fallacies  arising  from,  43. 
Copulation,    in    propositions,    18n., 

27f..  41f.,  43. 
Courage,    154. 
Covenant,  definition  of.  256,  270. 

how   dissolved,    261,   273. 

how  enforced,   259f. 

kept  thorugh  fear,  263f. 

not  Invalid  if  made  through  fear, 
262,  273. 

when  void,  262f. 

with  whom  not  made.  260.  272. 

See  Contract. 
Covetousness.   154. 
Craft,  182. 
Crime,  236n. 
Cruelty,   157,    287,    301. 
Curiosity,   definition   of,   155. 

its  relation  to  philosophy,  155. 


Deceptions,  of  the  senses.  25. 
Defect,   names   signifying,    20. 


Definition,    every  proposition   uni- 
versally true  IS  a,   43. 

falsity   of    propositions   detected 
by.   42f. 

first  beginning  of  teaching  phil- 
osophy, 70. 

from  philosophia  prima,  12n.,  72n. 

genus  and  difference  in,  68. 

nature  and  definition  of,  67f,  68ni. 

of    same    name   when    different, 
70. 

only  way  to  know  is  by,  65n. 

properties  of,  69r. 

should  express  cause  when  pos- 
sible,  66f.,   67n. 

true  demonstrations  follow  from 
true,  71. 

two  kinds  of,  65f. 

universal    and    primary    princi- 
ples, 3n.,  65f..  66n. 
Dejection,   156. 

Deliberation,     definition     of,      158. 
159n. 

in  beasts,  158. 

its   limits.    158. 

See  Will. 

Demonstration,    axioms    of   Euclid 

In.  66f. 
definition  of,   71. 
faults  of,  74f. 
in  natural  philosophy,  52. 
methods  of,  64f. 
nature  of,  70f. 
necessity  of  syllogistlcal  speech 

in,  65. 
of  causes,  the  end  of  science,  67. 
possible   only    when    causes    are 

known,  71n. 
properties  and  order  of,  72f. 
rules  of,  72n. 

two  causes  of  error  In,  72n. 
use  of  w^ords  in,  65. 

Denial  and  affirmation,   errors  in, 

39f. 
Despair,   154. 
Determlnately    true,    meaning   of, 

34n. 
Dictum,   or   proposition,   27. 
Ditfidence,  154. 
Dignity,  199. 


384 


INDEX 


Discourse,  of  the  mind,  24f.,  113n., 

114. 
Division,  47. 
Doubt,  definition  of,  173. 
Dreams,  and  imagination,   105f. 

and  religion,  110. 

cause  of,  106,  107n. 

difference     between     them     and 
reality,  106,  108,  109n. 

ghosts  and   visions,   108n. 

their  characteristics,  107n. 

variety  of,  explained,   106. 
Due.  258. 


Effect,  definition  of.  57n. 

produced    by    necessary     cause, 
59n. 

Bee  Cause. 
Effects,   and   appearances   defined, 
6. 

how  ascertained,  6f.,   56f. 

philosophy     the     knowledge     of 
their  generation,  2f,   46. 
Emulation,  158. 
Endeavor,   definition  of,  144.  145n. 

relation  to  sense,  88,  92. 
End  of  science,  67n. 

or   final   cause,   62n. 
Envy,   158. 

Equality,  of  men,  232.  244,  287,  302. 
Equity,  81,  289  303. 
Equivocation  22,  25,  43f.,  68n.,  69, 

73n. 
Erring  and  falsity,  how  they  differ, 

39f. 
Error,  committed  only  by  man;  32. 

definition  of,  135. 

due  to  the  misunderstanding  of 
speech,  31. 
'Errors,  formal,   43f. 

how  they  arise,  39f. 
I    in  affirming  and  denying,  39f. 

in  demonstration,  causes  of,  72n. 
j     in  reasoning,  41. 

material,  41f. 

names  the  causes  of,  40. 

of  sense  and  cogitation,  40. 

their  rectification.   25. 
Essence,  an  artificial  word,   26n. 

or  formal  cause.   62n. 


unnecessary  term  in  philosophy. 
31. 
Ethics,  definition  of,  11. 
See  Moral  Philosophy. 
Experience,  and  memory,  3n.,  47n., 
104n. 
appeal   to.    for  proof.   25,   54,   83, 

118n.,   168. 
caveats  of  concluding  from,  118n. 
knowledge    of   history,    lOf. 
not  philosophy,  3n. 
two  kinds  of,  47n. 
Extension,  cause  of  name  body,  29 

Faculties,  of  bodies,  6. 
Faith,   definition  of,  175,  177n. 

its  causes  various,  360. 

Its  objects,    359. 

not  philosophy,   4n. 
Fallacies,  formal,  43f. 

material.   41f. 

Falsity,  and  erring,  how  they  dif- 
fer, 39f. 

and  truth,  matters  of  language, 
24. 

cannot  follow  from  truth,  34. 

how  It  arises.  39f. 

in  reasoning,  39f. 

of    propositions,    23f.,    31f.,    40f.. 
42f. 
Fancy.    85.    113,   179f. 

Fear,   definition  of,  154. 
Influence  on  covenants,  263f. 
origin  of  society,   248. 
promises  made  through,  not  In- 
valid, 262,  273. 

Feigned,  opposed  to  true,  31. 

Felicity,   164,   208,   209n. 

Fictions,   have  names,   17. 

Figures,    cause    of    their    variety, 

50f. 
Fire,  caused  by  motion,  98. 

Form   of   matter,    whether  names 

signify,   17. 
Forms   of  speech,    names   of,    18n. 
Fortitude.  154. 
Future,    a  name,   17. 

Freedom.     See  Liberty. 


INDEX 


385 


Generation,  definitions  Should  ex- 
press, 66f.,  67n. 
of  bodies  and  effects  the  subject 

of  philosophy,  2f.,  10,  46. 
of  things,  demonstration  of,  the 

end  of  science,  67n.,  72n. 
of  conceptions.  51. 
reasoning  from,  3n.,  6f. 
Geometry,  demonstrable,  72n. 
study  of,  the  beginning  of  natur- 

ral    philosophy,    53. 
what  we  consider  in,  51,  53. 
Geometricians,    art  of.  75f. 
Ghosts,   108n. 
Glorying,    156. 

God,   doctrine  of  his  worship  ex- 
cluded  from   philosophy,   11. 
his  attribute,  34 8f.,  350. 
his  authority   derived   from   his 

power,   344. 
his  laws,   346f. 
his  natural  punishmenta,  353. 
kingdom  of.  34  2f. 
limits  of  our  knowledge  of,  63n., 

119. 
names  attributed  to,  by  appoint- 
ment, 14n.,  347. 
names  imposed  arbitrarily  by,  16. 
worship  of,  346f. 
Good,  general  discufiison  of,  147n., 
293,  310. 
metaphysical,  161n. 
relation    to    pleasure    and    pain, 

148n.,  149n. 
relative   and   not   absolute,    146, 

147n. 
three  kinds  of,  149. 
Gratitude.  285.  299. 

Hate,  definition  of,  146. 

Heat,  not  in  object,  but  in  man, 

100. 
Heart,  fountain  of  all  sense,  89. 
Heraldry,    204. 
History,  definition  of,  193. 

excluded  from  philosophy,  lOf. 
Honor,  198f. 
Hope,  154. 

Idea,  relation  to  definition,  67f. 
Ideas,  names  of.  17,  18n. 
no  universal,   21,   22n. 


Ignorance  of  causes,  21 3f. 

Image,  an  apparition  of  motion,  98. 

Images,  after-,  42n. 

names  of,  18n. 

words    to    which    none    corres- 
ponds. 25. 
Imagination,  and  dreams,  105f. 

and  memory,  103. 

and  motion,  113. 

and  other  mental  processes,  103n. 

and  sense,  103n. 

and  sense,   origin  of  moral  mo- 
tions, 53,  144. 

and  sense,  the  subject  of  physi- 
cal contemplation,  53. 

and  understanding.  Ill,  112n. 

and  universal  names,  22n. 

beginning  of  voluntary  motion, 
144. 

cause  of  its  coherence,  113,  114ik. 

definition  of,  lOlf.,  103. 

dependence  on  time.  102. 

none  of  the  infinite.  62n.,  llf. 

phantasms  of,  47. 

simple  and  compound,  104f. 

trains  of,  113f. 
Impossible,  a  name.  17f. 
Impudence.  157. 
Indeterminate,  61n.,  170. 
Indignation,  154. 
Inference,  of  one  proposition  from 

another,  32f. 
Infinite,  no  conception  of,  62n.,  119. 

opinions  of.  how  regulated,  62n. 
Infinitives,    abstract   names,    28n., 

29. 
Injury,  283f.,   295f. 
Injustice,   like  absurdity,  254,  296. 

See  Justice. 
Inspiration,   doctrine   of,    excluded 
from  phUosophy.  11. 

opinion  of.  185. 
Interrogations,  26. 
Invention,  method  of,   64f. 

of  names  necessary  for  knowl- 
edge, 24. 

Jealousy,  155. 

Judgment,  and  memory,  llSn. 

definition  of,  172,  179f. 

good,   113,   179. 


386 


INDEX 


INDEX 


387 


Justice,    definition   of,    278f. 

kinds  of.    283f..    296f. 

its  source  in  covenants,  278,  296f. 

none  actual  outside  of  civil  so- 
ciety, 238.  278f. 

See  Good  and  Right. 
Justification,    863. 


Kindness,  155. 

Kingdom,  of  God  by  nature,   342f. 

Knowledge,  absolute,  193. 

all  derived  from  sense,  86. 

beginnings  of,  47,  140n. 

but  remembrance,  47n. 

conditional,  173,   193. 

contingency,   a  defect  in,   170. 

definition   of.    33n.,    140n. 

its  limitations.  119.  141n. 

its  principles,  140n. 

its  several  subjects,  193f. 

kinds  of.   47n.,   140n.,   193. 

names  necessary  to,  24. 

of  effects  and  causes,  46f. 

of  fact,  173. 

of  singulars  and  unlversals,  47f. 

original.  47n. 

See  Philosophy  and  Science. 

Language,  and  ratiocination,  24. 

invention  of,  24. 

its  use,   24f. 
laughter,  definition  and  cause  of, 

156. 
Liaws,  divine,  346f.,   338. 

divine,  how  declared,  343. 

divine,  how  executed,  373. 

moral,   293,   309. 

natural,   251f.,    265f.,   278f.,   294f., 
369. 

natural,  are  eternal,  292,  309. 

natural,  contrary  to  natural  pas- 
sions,  319. 

natural,  how  far  they  oblige,  291, 
307. 

natural,    need   of   power   to   en- 
force,  319. 

natural,    the    fundamental,    253, 
267. 


natural.     See  Arbitrators,   Com- 
plaisance,   Contumely,   Equal- 
ity, Equity,  Gratitude,  Justice, 
Lot,   Meekness,    Pardon,    Pun- 
ishment.  Safe   conduct.    Tem- 
perance, 
soverign  not  subject  to,  332n. 
Leviathan,  81,  323. 
Liberality,  154. 
Liberty,   160n.,    251. 
and    necessity,    general   doctrine 
of,   160n..  165r. 
Light,   and  color,   99. 
cause  of,   59f.,   98f. 
Logistica,  of  geometricians,   75f. 
Lot,  decision  by.  289,  303. 
Love,  definitions  of,  146,  155. 
Lust,  natural,  155. 
Luxury,  155. 


Madness,   its  cause,   187. 

its  kinds,  184. 
Magnanimity,  154. 
Majorities,  316f. 

Man,    how    different   from    beasts, 
116f. 

not  naturally  sociable,  302,  321f. 

the  idea  of,  5. 
Manners,  difference  of,  208f. 
Marks,    and    signs,    difference   be- 
tween, 15f.,  65. 

defined,  13,  19. 

names  used  as.  15f.,   19f.,  64f. 

necessity  of,  13f.,  19,  64. 
Matter,  how  divided,  56. 

or  accident,  method  of  determin- 
ing,  55. 

or  form,    whether  names   signi- 
fy,  17. 
Meekness.  28;*,  302. 
Melancholy.    185. 
Memory,  and  experience,  104n. 

and  imagination,  103,  104n. 

and  judgment,  113n. 

inconstancy  of,   13,   19. 

knowledge  by  means  of,  47n. 

necessity   of   marks   for,    13.    19. 
64f. 
Metaphors,  equivocal,  22,  43f..  139. 


^Sr 


f* 


Metaphysics,  and  abstract  names, 
30. 

use  of  incoherent  words  in,  27. 
Method,  analytical,   50,  54,  56,   64. 

definition  of,  46. 

in   general,    46f. 

kinds  of,  47,  49f.,  51,  54. 

of  demonstration,  72f. 

of   invention.    64f. 

of  philosophy,  3n. 

of  seeking  cause,   56f. 

of  teaching,  64f. 

synthetical,    54,    55,   56,   64,   65. 
Mind,   acts  of  the,   104n.,    118. 

cause  of  differences  in  powers  of, 
183f. 

discourse   of,   113n.,   fl6. 

motions  of,    53,    118. 
Miracles,    228. 
Moral  philosophy,  9f.,  53,  145f.,  293, 

309. 
Motion,  and  imagination,  113. 

animal,  95.  143. 

appearance    of    things    of    sense 
determined  by,  53. 

cause  of  color,  etc.,  98f. 

definition  of,  29,  51,  66. 

fallacy      of      Zeno's       argument 
against,  44f. 

habitual,  24f. 

kinds  of,  143. 

laws  of,  59n.f. 

method    of    inquiry    concerning, 
51f. 

mutation    consists    in,    50,    59n., 
60n.f. 

of  the  mind,  53f.,  118. 

the  universal  cause.   50f. 

vital,    95,   143. 

voluntary,  24,  144. 
Multitude,    when   one  person,    316. 
Mutation.  50,  59n.,  60n.f. 


Names,  abstract,  26n.,  28f.,  30,  127. 
accidents,   the  cause  of,    29. 
advantages  and  uses  of,  15f.,  20, 

64f.,    70,    121,    123,    124. 
alone  universal,  21n.,  123. 
arbitrary.  14n.,  16f..   19,  70. 


cause  of,  to  be  sought  in  things, 

28. 
causes  of  knowledge  and  error, 

24. 
common,   21n.,   122. 
compounded,  70. 
concrete,  25n.,  28f.,  29.  ^. 

copulated,   41. 

definition  of,  15,  16,  19,  65f.,  120. 
definition  only  the  explication  of, 

67f.,   70. 
diversified  by  passion,   25. 
errors  in  the  use  of,   39f.,  41f. 
equivocal,  22,  25. 
first  truths  arbitrarily  made  by 

imposition  of,  32. 
incoherent.  26.  41,  130. 
inconstant,    130. 
indefinite,    21. 
individual,  20f.,  122. 
in   general,    13f.,    19f.,    64f.,    69f., 

120f. 
kinds  of,  18n.,  20,  41,  122.  127f. 
meaningless.    128. 
negative,  128. 

not  necessarily  names  of  some- 
thing. 17f..  28n. 
of  an  accident,  a  predicate,  37f. 
of  a  thing,  a  subject,  37f. 
of  fancies,   127. 
of  matter,  127. 
of   number,   20,    124. 
of   qualities,    20. 
of  speeches,  26,  128. 
positive    20,  23. 
privative,  20,   23. 
proper.  21,  122. 
signs  of  conceptions,   17f.,  19. 
singular,    20f. 

universal,  20f.,  21n.,   64f..   123. 
what  we  give  names  to,  17f.,  20, 

126. 
Necessity,  general  doctrine  of,  59n., 

61n.,  160n.,  165f. 
Nothing,  a  name,  18. 
Number,  names  of,  20. 

necessity  of,   20. 
Natural     condition     of      mankind, 

232f. 
Natural  laws.    See  Law. 
Nature,  laws  of.    See  Law. 


388 


INDEX 


INDEX 


389 


Oaths,  264,  276. 

Obedience   to  Christian   and   hea- 
then  sovereigns,    364f. 

Objects,  and  motion,  50f. 
names  of,  20. 

Obligation,  derived  from  contract, 
254n. 

Opinion.   172. 

Optic    n€rve,    function    in    sight, 

98f. 

Pain,  definition  of,  151,  153n. 
Panic,  155. 
Paralogisms,  25,  74. 
Pardon,   286,   300. 
Parsimony,  155. 
Passion,  definition  of,  57n. 
Passions,    beginning   of    voluntary 
motions  and  speech.  24,  143f. 
cause  of  different  names  for,  153. 

In  general,  143f. 

names  diversified  by,  25. 

simple,     153. 

verbal  expressions  for,  160f. 
Patient,  definition  of,  57n. 
Peace,  a  dictate  of  reason,  250. 
Perception,  errors  of,  40. 

knowledge   through,    47. 
Persons.    31 3f. 
Petitions  or  posrtulata,  67. 
Petitio  prlncipii,    74. 
Phantasms,  17,  37.  42n.,  47.  55,  62n., 

87,  88,  92. 
Phenomena   definition  of,    3n. 
Philosophy,  abstract  names  In,  30f. 

but  one   kind  of   speech   useful 
in,   27. 

civil,  8f.,   11,   53f.,  72n.,   73, 

definition  of,  2f..  12,  46. 

end  or  scope  of.  7. 

first,  12n.,  72n. 

identified  with  natural  reason,  If. 

kinds  of,  11,  12n.,   193n. 

marks  and  signs  necessary  for, 
13f. 

methods  of,  3n.,  51f.,  73. 

moral.  9f.,  53,  145f.,  293,  309. 

natural,  11,  51f.,  53,  55. 

principal  parts  of,  llf.,  12n. 

subjects  of,  lOf.,  62n. 


teaching   of,    begins    from    defi- 
nitions, 70. 
utility  of.  7f. 

what  men  search  after  in.  49f. 
See  Knowledge  and  Science. 
Physical    contemplation.    Its    sub- 
ject,  53. 
Physics.  8n.,  12n.,  52.  75. 
Pity.  157. 

Place,  definition  of,   51. 
Pleasure,  definition  of,  151,  153n. 
kinds  of,   152. 
Politics,  definition  of,  11. 

See  Civil  philosophy. 
Power,   196f.,    198n. 
desire  for*  a  general  inclination, 
208. 
Praise,  164. 
Precepts  of  reason.  250,.   251,   252, 

266. 
Predicate  of    a    proposition,     27f., 

Son,.  37. 
Pride,  288,  302. 

Principles,  not  in  need  of  demon- 
stration, 65,  69. 
first,  of  knowledge,  51. 
reasoning  from,  23f. 
universal  and  primary,  3n.,  65f., 

66n. 
use  of  term  by  Aristotle.  44. 
Privation,  names  for,  20,  23. 
Profess,  definition  of,  32n. 

Properties  and  abstract  names,  30f. 

definition  of.  6. 

how  known  by  generation.  6f. 
Property,  none  outside  of  civil  so- 
ciety. 239.  247f.,  334. 
Propositions,  afllrmative  and  nega- 
tive, 23. 

consequence  of,  32f. 

contingent,  33n. 

definition   of.   23,    27f. 

in  general,  27f. 

major  and  minor,   37. 

predicate  of.   27f.,   33n. 

received  as  truth,  why,  33n. 

science,  knowledge  of  the  truth 
of.  47n. 

singular,    3n. 

subject   of,   27f,   38n. 


Propositions,    true    and   false.    23, 
27,  31f.,   33n.,   41f. 
truth   and   falsity,    a    matter  of, 

31f,.   32n. 
universal  and  primary,  3n..  65f., 
66n. 
>nce,    3n.,  116,   1S2. 
»unishment.  287.   301,    353^ 

r^r: — 


Qualities,  of  sense,  94.  96. 

sen.«;ible,   but  motion,    85,    87. 

sensible,    only    in    the    sentient, 
96f. 
Quality  and  quantity.  o3. 

names  of,  20. 


Ratiocination,  and  language,  24. 
in  general.  4f.,  23f.,  32. 
true,   32. 
Rational,  idea  of,  5. 
Reason,  a  law  of  nature,  252,  266. 
and  science,  131f. 
definition   of,    6,    132. 
knowledge  of  universals  acquired 

by.   49f. 
natural.   If. 
limits  of  natural,  351. 
not   natural,   but  acquired,   137f. 
precepts  of,  250,  251,  252,  266. 
right,  4n.,  23f.,  132f.,  151n.,  152n., 

266. 
same  in  all  men,  252n. 
use  and  end  of,  134. 
Reasoning,    and    abstract    names, 
30f. 
errors  In,   25,  39f.,  41. 
in  general,  3n..  4f.,  23f. 
from     authority    of     books,    not 

philosophy,  4n, 
produces     general     and     eternal 

truth,    4n. 
rnght,  4n.,  23f.,  132f.,  151n.,  152n.. 
266. 
Religion,  110,  155,  217f. 
Remembrance,    all  experience  and 
knowledge   but,   47n. 
definition  of,  116. 
Representatives,   314f. 


Repugnance  or  consequence,  names 

for,  18n, 
Resolution,      knowledge      acquired 
by,   49f. 

or   division,   47. 
Revelation,  not  philosophy,  4n.,  11. 
Rcvengefulness,  155. 
Right,  how  renounced,  253,  268. 

natural.    234n..    246f..   251. 

See  Justice. 
Rights,   of  sovereigns,   325f.,    339n. 

of  succession,  341n. 

which  cannot  be  renounced,  255, 
262,    288.   302. 
Rules,   of   action,   need   of,    9f. 

Salvation,  what  necessary  to,  356f. 
Sapience,    definition   of,    139,    140n. 
Science,  all  true  ratiocination  pro- 
duces,  71. 

and  reason,  131f. 

causes  of  error  In.  72n, 

classification  of,   193f. 

conditional  character  of,  173,  193. 

definition  of,  33n.,  46f.,  47n..  67n., 
140n.,    193. 

dependence  on  naihes,  20. 

derived     from     precognition     of 
causes,  72n. 

end  of,  67. 

moral,  the  need  of,  9f. 

number   necessary  to,   20. 

signs  of,  141. 

sought  after  in  two  ways,  49f. 

See  Knowledge  and  Philosophy. 
Sciences,  the  greatest  of  commod- 
ities, 8. 
Sense,  all  knowledge  derived  from, 
86. 

and   imagination,    53,   103. 

and  memory,  not  philosophy.   3. 

and  motion,    84f..    87f.,    96f.,   102. 

as   reaction,    90. 

cause  of,   84,  86,  87. 

deceptions  of,    25,   100. 

definition  of,   85,  88. 

errors  of,  40. 

in    knowledge   by.    whole   object 
better  known,  47f. 

knowledge  through,  47n. 


390 


Sense,  nature  of,  87. 

object   of,    88,   89,    95. 

organs  of,  89. 

original   of   man's    thoughts,    84. 

perceives    only    one    thing    at    a 
time,  91f. 

phantasms  of,  47. 

physiology  of,   8Sf.,  93. 

qualities    of,    94,    96. 

relation  to  memory,  90. 

subject   of,    87,   88. 

succession  of  the  acts  of,  19.. 

variety  of  phantasms  necessary 
to,  90f. 

variety      of      things      perceived 
caused  by  motion,  50f. 

why   outward,   85. 
Senses,   conceptions  of.  95f. 

number  of,  91. 

Sensible  qualities,  but  motion,  85, 

87. 
qualities,    only    ni    the    sentient, 

96f. 
species.   85,   96. 

Shame,   157. 

Signs  and  marks.  15f. 

arbitrary.    14n. 

definition  of,   14. 

errors  arising  from   natural.    40. 

in   demonstration,   65. 

kinds  of,  14n. 

names  used  as,  I5f. 

natural,  14n. 

necessity  of,  14f. 

of    connexion    in    a 
27f. 

Sin,    236n. 

Singulars    and    unlvereals.    knowl- 
edge of,  47f.,  49f. 
Smell,  not  In  object,  100. 

Society,    natural    fitness    for,    240. 

321. 

origin  in  fear.  243. 

Sophists  and  sceptics,  captions  of, 

44f. 
Sovereigns,    can    do    no    injustice, 

330. 

cannot  justly  be  punished,    332. 


INDEX 

0- 


proposition, 


obedience  to  Christian  and  hea- 
then, 364f. 

rights  of,  325f.,  339n. 

rights  of  succession  of,  341n. 
Sovereignty,    absolute   and   not    to 
be  divided,  336f. 

how   attained,   324. 

when   it  may  be   changed,   370f. 
Species,   sensible.   85f.,   96. 
Speech,  absurd,  26f. 

benefits  derived  from,  120. 

incoherent,   26f. 

definition  of,   15. 

in  general,  120f. 

kinds  of,   26f. 

names  of  different  forms  of,  18n.  , 

passions    of   men    the    beginning 
of,  24. 

significatioi\   the  end  of,   27. 

syllogistical.    38.    65. 

truth  and  falsity  belong  to,   31f. 

uses  and  abuses  of,  121f. 
Spirits.   187f. 
Square,  idea  of,  5. 
Subject,  concrete  the  name  of  the, 
28. 

of  a  proposition.  2Tf.,  33n. 

of  the  conclusion.  37. 
Subjects,   how  released  from  obli- 
gation.   326n. 

of  God.  343. 
Supposing,  definition  of,  32n. 
Superstition.  155. 
Syllogism,  a  matter  of  speech,  38. 

definition  and  structure  of,  36. 

in  general.   23.   36f..  43f.,   70f. 

material  errors  in,  41f. 

necessary  in  teaching  or  demon- 
stration. 65. 

terms    of,    36f. 

thoughts  in  the  mind  answering 
to,  37f. 


Teaching,  definition  of.  05. 

method  of.  64f. 

necessity  of  syllogistical  speech 
in,  65. 

use  of  words  in,  65. 
Temperance.   291.   307. 


INDEX 


391 


Terms,  equivocation  of,  43f. 
fallacies  in,  36f..  43. 
major,  minor,  and  middle,  37. 
of  the  syllogism.   36f. 
Theology,   not   philosophy,    10. 
Theorems,   67. 

Things,  abstract  names  do  not  de- 
note, 29. 
causes  of  their  names,  28. 
errors  do  not  arise  from,  40. 
lawful  to  apply  the  word  univer- 
sally, 18. 
many  names   or   attributes   for, 

20,  21n. 
names  of,  18n.,  19f. 
names  not  signs  of,  17f. 
no  universal,  21n. 
themselves  and  phantasms,  55. 
to  which  we  gives  names,  41. 
truth  and  falsity  do  not  belong 
to.  31f. 
Thinking,    definition   of,    33n. 
Thoughts,  inconstancy  of,  13. 
in   the   mind   answering  to   syl- 
logism, 37f. 
names  as   marks  and   signs  of, 

15f.,  19f. 
necessity    of    marks    and    signs 

for,  13f. 
their  original  sense,   84. 
what  they  are  smgly,  84. 
Torture,    263,    276. 
Train  of  imaginations,  113f. 
True,    determinately,    34n. 
Truth,     and     falsity     belong     to 
speech,  24,  31f,  125. 
and   falsity   of   propositions,    23, 

31f,   33n. 
must  follow  from  truth  and  may 

from   falsity,    34. 
propositions  received   as,    33n. 
reasoning    contradictory    to    ev- 
ident, 24. 
Truths,  first,  arbitrarily  made,  32. 

Understanding,    and    Imagination, 
111,  112n. 
and  speech,  112n. 


definition  of,  22,  129. 
peculiar  to  man,  129. 
science  derived  from,  47n. 
Universal,     nothing,     but     names, 
21n. 
notion  given  In  definition,  69. 
propositions,  3n.,  65f.,  66n., 
Universals   and   singulars,    knowl- 
edge of.  47f.,  49f. 


Value.  198. 

Virtue,  as  habits,  149n. 

definition  of,  178. 

intellectual,  178f. 

intellectual,   causes  of  difference 
In,  179,  183. 
Vision,  originates  In  motion,  99. 
Voluntai-y  actions,  159. 

motions,   passions  the  beginning 
of,  24.  143f. 


War,  cause  of,   8f.,   234. 

Weeping.   156. 

Will,  and  deliberation,  158. 

definition  of.  158,  159n. 

general   doctrine  of,   159n.,   ISBf. 
Words,  connected  to  form  speech, 
15f. 

incoherent,  26f. 

insignificant,  30. 

seed  of  philosophy,   73n. 

truth   and   falsity   a   matter  of, 
31f,  32n. 

use  of.  by  appointment,  14n. 

uses  of,  18n.,  64f.,  124. 

See  Names. 
Worth,  198. 
Worthiness,  20b. 

Worship,   doctrine   of,   not  philos- 
ophy, 11. 

its  kinds.  Institution,  and  regu- 
lation, 15n.,  346f. 


Zeno,   arguments  of,   against   mo- 
tion,  44f. 


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